The Gatekeeper
by TheNutcase
Summary: I was barely saved.  Everyone thinks I tried to commit suicide and I don't think I did but I just don't know anymore.  And now I'm stuck in some clinic with a bunch of psychos and Tori Vega trying to 'help' me.
1. Precedents

**Chapter One**

From an early age I've been fascinated with death. Everyone knows that – I practically scream it as a greeting. I've always known I was different. While the other little girls were playing with barbies, I was finding creative and original ways to destroy them.

I had no friends, really – who wants to hang out with that type of kid anyway? Even older boys who made fun of all my peers were terrified of me. They'd steer clear, glancing at me a thousand times as they robbed children of two bucks of lunch money. I don't blame them. I've always given off the illusion that I could do things I really couldn't do.

And, sure, it works for the most part. But some people see right through me. Beck, for one. He bulldozed my walls down the moment I met him. That's why I initially agreed to dating him – he saw past my bluffing, I didn't have to pretend around him. A treaty. An agreement. I could rebuild. I figured that's really all there was to it. Guys aren't allowed to just give away their girlfriends' secrets. It's a law. I figured he knew my secrets, so that was a way to keep them in, right?

Wrong.

See, thing is, Beck isn't a lawyer. He doesn't know this stuff. You'd think it was common sense, that everyone should understand that. But no. He listened to all those problems I told him about, all those insecurities and the feelings and the confusion, all of it. And then he went on to talk about it with Andre, of all people.

I don't know why he chose Andre. I suppose Andre's an understanding person. Or he was just there. Doesn't matter much. Point is, he brought all that out in the open, regardless of whether or not we were dating. And now _Andre_ knows all about how screwed up I am, _Andre_ knows how insecure I am. It's not fair. In the slightest.

That's just one more person who knows things about me that they shouldn't.

I didn't say a word about it – the only reason I even knew was because I was late to class and they were talking about it in the middle of the hallway. Where anybody could hear. I didn't ever make it to class. I ended up sulking for an hour in the janitor's closet and then driving home.

Then Vega showed up. Out of nowhere, in the middle of the school year. Beautiful, talented, modest. She didn't need to break down my walls to understand. She had a key to the gate and just made her way inside.

It was horrifying. She made me feel things that I didn't _want_ to feel, right off the bat. She was so _close_ to uncovering everything. I couldn't trust her – I couldn't even trust my own boyfriend anymore! She was already inside my fortress, all I could do to protect my secrets was hide in a secret vault and throw out as many grenades as I could find, hoping they would drive her away.

But she wouldn't be driven away – she was determined to find me, and all my attacks were doing were pointing her in the right direction. I really shouldn't have been so worried in retrospect. She was an unarmed lone soldier posing no threat. But I was thinking irrationally, I figured she'd wait until she got close enough and then pull out her weapon and make it hurt that much more.

I could only see two options – I could make her chase me around in circles until we were both exhausted or I could continue attacking until I ran out of ammunition. I was never one for decisions, so I merged the two together.

As days went by, my weapons just got weaker. I lost energy exponentially. And poor Tori Vega, she was so confused. Showing her surrender flag every time I glanced back, she just couldn't understand why I wouldn't even take her prisoner, as any sane person would do.

But that's the problem. I'm not sane. I'm not rational; I'm not logical. I'm completely out of my mind. She needed to understand that if we were going to make any truce at all.

But she refused to accept that. She followed every move I made, trying to put reason to it. Every word I said was taken down and analyzed as though it actually _meant_ something. As though I knew what I was talking about half the time. She was searching for sequence in a thousand unrelated numbers.

It got so bad in my head. It got to the point where I was considering escaping from my own fortress and leaving her in there. Trapping her inside my mind as I lost it. Running away from all I had. But then I remembered when I was that little girl - so feared, so lonely - and I figured that if I could live through that, then this should be nothing.

I remember back then, when the majority of the thoughts in my head were about how everything dies, and how I wanted to die in an interesting way. Not just be another number. Part of a statistic. I wanted to stand out. I wanted to die in such a way that people would remember it as so well thought out; well executed. A scary story told at one of those campfires I'd only ever heard about at storytelling time in preschool. A statement about humanity and it's faults.

That's not how it happened.

**A/N - Hello there! If you got this far I applaud you. I know that most of that stuff was a bit heavy and some if not all of it made no sense, but that is pretty much what I was going for. The whole overthinking things and turning everything into metaphors is actually not only there to confuse you, contrary to popular belief.**

**This is my first story. I'm not sure it's a wonderful start. I assure you I'm not this depressing all the time. So yeah. That's pretty much all I have to say. It's not like anybody actually reads these things anyway.**


	2. Awakening

**Chapter Two**

Waking up in that hospital room gave me a heart attack.

Everything was white. I thought maybe I woke up in heaven before I reminded myself that God would never let me in there. I'm not good enough – I must have just been made from leftover parts after he made someone who actually had a chance.

But, see, I really don't mind it. I don't want to go to heaven. Too much pressure; everything's perfect all the time, everyone expects you to be pure. No room for mistakes. Not to say I'd like to go to hell, hell would have _more_ pressure, _more_ expectations. There's no place for me.

The lights were blinding. The bed was so stiff it felt like wood. Like a coffin. They were just preparing for later on, for when I wouldn't wake up.

Why I was there, I had no idea. I could remember nothing. Or nothing that mattered anyway. I remembered that I was Jade West, that I had a boyfriend who I wasn't really interested in, that I was in charge of a fortress that protected nothing but my own very pathetic reputation.

Anything that could have happened to land me in a hospital was blurred out from my memory. Just blacked out. Another faulty piece in my brain.

"I thought for a minute you wouldn't make it, you know." I started, my head jerking toward the source of the voice. And there he was, his hair ruffled, his black eyes stained red. "The doctor said you might not. He said the longer you're out, the less chance you have of coming back in." A tear ripped a scar down his cheek. "It's a really shitty thing to do, Jade. Kill yourself. It really hurt me, to find out what you tried. It's like you just don't care about anyone else."

With that said, Beck was gone. I was alone, laying on my coffin, thinking about how much I deserved that. For everything. Everything I put that boy through, all the forced 'I love you's that I didn't really mean, all the bullshit I told him about how bad _I_ have it, how terrible _my _life is.

And then I was thinking about what the hell I must have done, to end up here. To make him say things like that. 'To find out what you tried.' I'm not that weak, I wouldn't do that on my darkest day. I'm not that strong.

The doctor arrived a bit later. Beck must have sent him since he didn't look too surprised to see me awake. He talked to me, but it was a meaningless conversation from which I learned nothing. I only spoke once to ask what exactly happened. He wouldn't answer.

He left soon enough, leaving me to stare at the patterned circles painted on the white ceiling. Around and around. The same thing over and over. It represents absolutely everything.

I was pulled out of sleep when the white door slammed. The nightmare I'd been having left me with adrenaline pulsing through my veins. But the white room, the closed shades – I was just brought straight back inside it. The difference was nonexistent. Was I asleep? Am I still?

The slamming of the door came to mind, so I glanced over. There she was, timidly shifting, the bags under her eyes hinting that she hadn't slept through the time span of Beck's visit in weeks.

My first thought was 'Thank God.' What came from the knife in my throat was, "What do you want, Vega?" Another failed attack. Another cheap grenade. One less in the supply.

She didn't even flinch. She just set her jaw and put on her armor. "What do you mean _what do I want, _Jade! What do you _think_ I want? Do you think I came to your hospital bed to discuss anything other than what put you there?" Inside her eyes was a fire – one that would burn me if it grew anymore.

I glanced down. It's not easy, you know. Pretending I hate her when it's quite the opposite. But I _am_ an actress. "Well then, talk," I muttered, not meeting her burning gaze.

"Fine!" she shouted, shaking the medical machines I didn't even realize I was hooked up to until now. "I _will!_ First off, I think it's really fucking_ stupid_ for you to not have tried to get yourself help before you went and did this! I think it's really fucking _ridiculous _for you to even try to justify the thought that nobody cares about you when I'm _right here_!"

With that thrown out in there, she collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Her whole body shaking, her eyes hidden by her knees pulled to her chest. Gasping for air. Drowning in tears.

Through her sobs, a broken sentence ripped out of her chest, taking slivers of her heart with it. "I just... just don't understand w-why you won't... won't let me in," she whispered.

My heart broke. I didn't think it was functioning, truthfully – I haven't felt much from it in a long time. I ripped her armor off without even noticing.

I didn't know what I was doing until I was holding her. I'd pulled the needle from my arm. Blood was spilling out, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, nothing but her.

"You're already in," I whispered to her neck. "You just don't realize it yet." I pulled back, looking in her eyes.

The fire had turned to ashes.

**A/N - I'm not a hundred percent sure what to call that up there. Hardened fluff. Steel wool? Doesn't matter much, call it what you want. I'm not into labels.**

**Oh, by the way, it's only going to get more depressing from here on out. So you have that to look foward to. :D **


	3. Dreaming

**Chapter Three**

I dream in riddles.

When I was a kid, it was always so simple. I dreamed of my daddy coming home, my mother sobering up. I thought every kid had those dreams.

See, when you're a kid, things are simple. You don't think too much. You don't feel outnumbered by your thoughts, like they're coming from someone else. People call it ignorance. But really, kids are so much smarter than adults. They see things as they are. They think life is just life, and it's always been the way it is. Ignorance _is_ bliss.

When I grew up a bit, my preteens, when I realized the world ran on appearances. That's when mommy got wasted and drowned in vomit. That's when daddy took me back regardless of what he thought of me, just to stay out of court. To keep his spotless reputation.

My dreams started changing around that time, when I moved to LA. That was when I decided I wanted to make my life worth something. That I wanted people to see me as more than just another idiot coasting through life. I dreamed of being on the TV that raised me. Pretending to be someone else.

It's easy for me, to act. To make believe. To lie. They're all the same. It helps me, sure. I got into Hollywood Arts with the threat of my skill in it. I told my precious father if he didn't pay the tuition with his overload of money, I would say he molested me. I showed him how good I was, I told him how I had it all planned, how he could do nothing about it 'cause I'm an innocent little girl and he's a rich old bastard who thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants, in the world's eyes. In the jury's eyes.

I got my way then – I acted like I wasn't terrified of what he might do to me, how he might react to my proposition. Not to sound vain, but I'm an amazing actress. I get a ton of practice. I'm acting every second of my life. But people don't care how good an actress I am – they're only interested in what can be put on paper. You can be the best actress the world's ever seen, you'll get nowhere without experience.

So Hollywood Arts was a good start – going to an acting school. People who look at that will get interested. It doesn't matter how terrible you are. They can work with that.

When I got in the school, that's when I realized all that mattered to me was appearance. That I wanted people to see me as someone important, someone to either look up to or to be scared of. I was no different from my goddamn father, the bane of my existence.

So I started wearing all black all the time, dying my hair, getting colored streaks, piercings, illegal tattoos. I called people out, being bitchy, adding only biting comments to conversations. I became someone no one would like, and, regardless, everyone was forced to recognize my talent.

Now, my dreams make no sense. It's the same one, every time I close my eyes, even when my eyes are open it plays out in my head. It starts out in a forest. Just a regular forest, nothing special about it. I'm standing there, young, the age I was when my mother was still alive. And I have a watch. I look at it, it spins like a wheel on a car.

My arm around the watch, it's growing, it's aging. I'm aging. It grows until it turns to the size hand I'm used to looking at when I hold a microphone, hit something, touch myself. And then it stops – the time, the aging arm. And I look at my watch, and it morphs into one of those digital clocks and it say's the time's 6:65, which doesn't make sense. That time doesn't exist.

Then I'm looking up, into a mirror that appeared in front of me. I see myself. My reflection. The forest behind me. The rain stops. I didn't realize it was raining, not until it stopped. I was too preoccupied, watching the time pass. What a waste of it.

Then I look back down, down at my watch. It's strained. It's been made for a child's arm, not a teenager's. I reach out with my other hand, I press my fingertips to the glass. The band snaps the second I touch it, it falls, the glass covering the clock shatters and reaches out to tear scratches in my legs. The time flicks to 6:66.

I look back up then, into the mirror. I'm thinning. My muscles, my definition, it's just degrading right in front of my eyes. I'm dying, and I just watch myself, doing nothing. The forest behind me is thinning out, trees withering down or falling over under their own weight. Bushes die. The sun is always setting somewhere.

And all the while, I'm watching myself turn to a corpse. My skin and eyes have lost color. I sink to my knees.

The forest is completely dead soon, and I'm lying on my side, with an awkward view into the mirror, seeing myself start to decompose. And there are no trees obscuring my vision anymore. I can see my fortress, off on the horizon. I can see my gates, wide open. A thousand people flooding in, a thousand people who I don't want in there.

That's why I stopped sleeping. I didn't want to go there, to see that. That's why I'm here, on my coffin at two in the morning, thinking about what it all means. Thinking too much. If I was a kid, I wouldn't dwell on it. I'm not a kid anymore.

The tears stop. I didn't realize I was crying, not until I stopped. I was too preoccupied, watching my life pass.

What a waste of it.

**A/N - I'm truthfully running out of things to say now. If you think about that dream as much as I want you to, you will probably be having it tonight. Sucks for you. Just try not to read too much into it, you might hurt yourself.**


	4. Withholding

**Chapter Four**

My first group therapy meeting was on the anniversary of my parent's divorce. I could pretend I don't care, that it doesn't effect me, but there's no point. You already know I care enough to keep track.

The moment my father divorced my mother he divorced me, too. He wanted nothing to do with my life or my upbringing from that point on. He would have put me up for adoption if he could have gotten away with it without looking like an asshole.

The therapist asked our names. Then he asked our ages. Any medication we took. Our hometown. Our parent's occupations. Tallies, that's what we all are. A number. A pathetic portion of a statistic. How many crazy people have a cat named Kitty?

A lot.

Then he got started. I picked up on translation quickly. 'Who would like to share their feelings?' That meant, 'Who would like to put their problems out to be criticized by people with worse problems?' 'Why are you here?' means 'How come you didn't succeed in killing yourself the first time?'

Maybe I'm not exactly accurate.

"Jade." I looked up, at my new therapist. "You seem tired. How did you sleep last night?"

I stared at him, but not in his eyes. "I didn't," I muttered.

He stared back at me. Into my eyes. I reached in my bag and put my sunglasses on. I didn't want him to see my soul.

"Why is that?" he asked, pretending to care. I'm an actress, I know when other people are acting.

Because I'm scared to dream. Because I don't want to watch my body decompose. Because I don't want people inside my fortress, because the only person I can trust is myself, and that's all I'm ever going to need. I don't know where she got a key, but I want to weld the lock together and trap myself inside forever now, because it's safer that way. And I would, if she wasn't already inside.

"Just...," I started. "Not used to my new bed yet, I guess."

The reality of my situation never hit me. I never really knew what was going on. I wouldn't accept it. If I did, I would have to confront myself. And I'm done with that.

Tori Vega came to visit everyday. We didn't communicate until a week had passed. We would just sit there, thinking about our own issues. Maybe the same things, I don't know, I never will. All I really know for sure is it gets easier with her around – thinking.

I was the first to say something to break the silence – my voice was gravelly and rough. I hadn't talked much in a long time. No less than I usually do, of course. But it was a different type of silence. Absolutely no one cared what I had to say.

I asked what happened.

Her eyes darkened. The ash in them wanted to be lit up, but it was too difficult. How could you even do that? The fuel's gone.

"You tried to kill yourself, Jade," she said calmly. "That's really all there is to it." She stood, as though she was going to leave.

"Wait!" I yelped desperately, sitting up. She paused, glancing back at me curiously. "I couldn't have...," I whimpered. Sometimes it's hard for me, coming up with things to say. It's so much easier, reading from a script. I wish things in life were scripted. I wish, just one time, I could find the right words on my own.

I could see her eyes getting wet. "They found you bleeding out from the wrist, holding a pocketknife," she whispered. "If you didn't try to kill yourself, what the hell happened, Jade?"

"I... I don't remember," I sobbed. She shook her head and turned to head to the door again. "I can't remember _anything,_ Tori!"

She paused again, but this time she turned on me, fuming. "Well maybe you beat yourself, too, okay? Maybe you gave yourself amnesia, maybe you should figure these things out before you talk to people about it!"

I shrank back. It felt so... pathetic. I needed her to understand, I needed her to know I didn't do it, even if I did. How fucked up do you need to be to not know yourself well enough to be sure you wouldn't commit suicide?

Her eyes softened, taking in my vulnerable state. "I'm sorry, Jade. I just can't deal with this right now. I care too much." She walked over to the door again, opening it partially. Then she closed it, walking over to me again.

She placed a kiss on my forehead, lingering there a while, then pulling back to look in my eyes. "I love you," she whispered quietly. "Get some sleep, Jade."

And then she was gone for good, the door was closed, and I was alone again. Left with my thoughts, which were more jumbled than ever, and my mouth gaping open like a wound.

**A/N - Awwww... I think.**

**Thank you very much for the very kind reviews! Actually, there are only four as of now, but they're still appreciated! For those of you who didn't review, you should. Y'know. If you care.**

**Even if you have nothing good to say. I'd rather be told it's terrible than have it implied. ;) Eh? Did I make anyone feel guilty?**

**Of course, you don't _have_ to. I understand if you have a broken hand or two. Or you're really old and your hands shake too much. Or you have a disease of some sort.**

**I feel like a jerk now.**


	5. Revealed

**Chapter Five**

I did sleep that night. And I dreamed again. But it wasn't the same.

My dream was black. No imagery, nothing. Just the awareness of my body and the sound of my breath. I sat in the dark for a long time. And then music.

Usually I'm not one for popular music. Sometimes it disgusts me. All love songs, dedicated to a girl's hips. Heavy, repetitive beats and choruses. People living life high on drugs and meaningless sex. I can't decide if they're idiots or geniuses. I can never decide.

But, in my dream, a remotely popular song came on. 'If I Die Young.' It came on softly, gently, beautifully. And then it got louder. And louder. It got so loud, it was deafening. At one point I started screaming along, and I almost didn't realize it until I was out of breath, my diaphragm aching.

My voice got louder than the music, to the point where I couldn't hear it. I was feeling raw, tearing my vocal chords to shreds. And then, suddenly, the music stopped, but I kept going, not noticing, singing the chorus repeatedly.

Then my father's voice, stopping my words in their tracks instantly.

"Would you like to die young, Jade?"

I woke up immediately, eerily calm. That white alarm clock next to the bed, that song was playing. What type of hospital has preset alarm clocks?

I suppose it wasn't a pleasant dream, one I could make sense of. But it was progress from that other one. The forest. The time.

Cat came to visit. Took her long enough, really – she's my best friend. Only because I wish I was like her, though. Happy. But I don't really know her. Do you ever really know somebody? I know nobody knows me, who I am. Maybe everyone's like this.

But that's ridiculous – if everyone was like me, it wouldn't be so bad. Everyone would understand. Nobody would get offended by what I had to say. Sure, sometimes I wish I could be normal, but more often I wish everyone else wasn't.

Cat's so simpleminded it's horrifying. It's like nothing bad has ever happened to her, like she's never lost anything. She's a kid. But I always have to remind myself she's an amazing actress, too. For all I know she could be _exactly_ like me, only with a different character.

First thing she did when she walked in was walk up to one of those IV drip machines and start fiddling with the cord. Don't know why it's in here. They probably expect me to boycott water sometime soon. Or they're just looking for an excuse to stab me.

"You shouldn't do that, Cat," I said gently. I was soft with Cat. Not because I like her anymore than anyone else, but because I know she's no threat. She wouldn't come in my fortress if I was holding the gate open for her.

She smiled in that carefree way of hers. Never changes; always the same smile. Doesn't matter whether she's meeting you at a carnival or saying a final goodbye at your funeral. This felt more like the latter.

She dropped the cord, making her way over to me, sitting on the bed. "How are you?" she asked, her eyes as bright as the sun. Blinding.

"Fine," I muttered, looking away. "What took so long?"

She shrugged, smiling wider. "I had to go to Colorado to bail my brother out of jail. My parents would have done it, but they were still angry from the last time."

She grabbed my arm suddenly, twisting it to see my wrist. "I love scars," she muttered, tracing the remnants of my supposed failed suicide with her fingertips. "They're beautiful. Just... real." I blinked at her, seeing her for the first time in my life.

Then she left.

Part of me was disappointed. I was hoping that some people could be that simple, that easy. Remain a child. The fact that it was all a lie, a mask – it almost felt like she had died. Like I'd lost my best friend, now that I knew more about her. Sometimes it's better to remain in the dark.

Then I had a sudden burst of self-loathing – it's pathetic, really. I'm such a hypocrite. The thing I was terrified of happening, I brought upon her. I think of her differently – she's not the same Cat. She gave me a glance of _her_ fortress. Sure, she didn't give me a tour of the inside, but she took a picture and sent a postcard.

And then I judged every stone's placement, every little crevice, every air vent. No mercy. Like a real estate agent, scouting for the maximum amount of cash I could sell for.

Well, no one's buying.

**A/N - Ahem. God knows where that came from.**


	6. Poetry

**Chapter Six**

My therapist told me to write him a poem.

He said it would help him to understand me more. To relate. To analyze. To help determine whether I'm screwed up enough to prescribe medication. Just like everything else I do in his room. But I keep coming back – not because I like it there, not because I think it'll help me to adopt a normal thought process, but because the room is blue.

And that in itself should be enough reason for him to give me some pills.

Not to say I think pills will help anything, or that I'm planning on getting addicted or something – I just wanted to exaggerate the point that my therapist isn't too observant. His catchphrase is the ever so popular, 'How does that make you feel?' which makes me wonder if they actually pay this guy or if he just does it to pass time.

Nevertheless, the second I got in my room with my brand new pencil and notebook, I got to writing. I sat there for about a half an hour writing until it was finished.

And then I stood on the bed and scratched my pencil all over the wall, spreading gray everywhere. Because it was too white. There was too much contrast between the white of the room and the deep black stain of my presence – I needed to balance it out.

While I was doing that, the door opened. Tori's daily visit.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" she yelped the second she saw me.

I glanced down nonchalantly. "Morning," I said happily, jumping off the bed and over to her. I stuck the pencil between us, pointing up. "See the tip? It's dulled. They don't trust me with a sharp one. Figures."

She stared.

"Know what I don't get though, Vega?" I purred, a grin crawling onto my face. "They keep every variety of needle there is in here, the idiots."

She stared a bit longer. "Did something happen, Jade?" she asked, concerned.

My grin dropped, my voice taking on a dangerous tone. "I wrote a poem," I said. "Would you like to read it?"

She stared at that piece of paper for a long time. To relate. To analyze. To help determine whether I'm screwed up enough to prescribe medication. But it was okay with me, when she did it. Everything's okay with me when she does it.

Then she looked at me, for a bit more time than she'd looked at the paper. "Are you trying to get yourself committed?" she asked seriously. "_Longer_?"

I shook my head slowly. "No...," I whispered. "It's just... my thoughts. It's how I feel. I dunno, it's stupid." I finished, looking down, shifting my weight. Body language. If you're a therapist, learn that before you make your patients hate you.

"No, Jade, it's amazing. It's beautiful. It's just disturbing. Painful for me to look at." I looked up at her. "If you let anybody in this place read this, they'll probably... do illegal experiments on you." I'm not sure if that was a joke.

Truthfully, I had no idea what I wrote down. We already established my memory issues, especially when it comes to important, often traumatic things. I guess I just block them out subconsciously or something to that extent.

Before we could discuss it further, a phone began to ring. "Shit," she growled, pulling her cellphone out of her back pocket. "Hello?" she said, answering it. "Yeah, I know, I know... I lost track of time, okay?" I watched her face grow annoyed during a pause. "I'm at a hospital. Goodbye." And with that, she hung up.

She looked over at me after she shoved it back in her pocket. "Jade, I have to go. I'm _really_ late." She jogged over, folding my poem and tucking it in my pocket. "You won't show that to anyone, right? It'll stay between us."

I gulped. "Yeah. Sure."

She smiled. "Good. Try to relax a bit." Then she jogged out the door.

The place was so quiet. I could hear the doors slamming, gradually getting farther away. But that was probably my imagination. It almost always is.

I unfolded the poem.

_She anticipated death,_

_But would never throw her life away._

_Because what's another body_

_In a mass unmarked grave?_

_She doesn't want to be a number -_

_She's always hated math._

_She prefers easier methods _

_Like memorizing facts._

_'Cause it matters not wh__at you can do - _

_It's just what you have done._

_You could take away the misery_

_But it would take away the fun. _

_Pain is nothing without pleasure - _

_Just a constant way of life._

_If hell's anything but memories,_

_I know I'll be alright._

_And maybe the devil tricks you_

_But God just lets you go._

_So which one's worse, the last or first?_

_I guess I'll never know._

**A/N - Deep, right? That was just a poem I wrote, I rediscovered it and thought it went with a few of the themes here, so I figured I might as well add it in. Well, actually, I wrote everything but the poem here and then I was like, "Hey, I should add a poem in!" Then I went searching through my room and found that.**

**So, you should review and tell me if you liked the trash I found on my bedroom floor (which actually serves as more of a junk draw). Unless, you know, your hands haven't healed yet. I totally understand if that's the case.**


	7. Track

**Chapter Seven**

I used to feel alone.

I told Cat that once. I said the three words. I feel alone. She didn't get it. Or, her character didn't get it anyway.

She said, don't be silly. How could you possibly feel alone? You have me, she said. Beck. Andre. Robbie. Rex. Sikowitz. You couldn't feel alone, you have us, she said.

I think Cat knew what I was talking about. I think Cat felt the same way, actually. But she couldn't say so, she would break character.

See, that's the difference between Cat and I. I can let my problems shine through every once and awhile, because Jade West is a dark person. It's no big deal if I say something disturbing. But if Cat ever does, it'd have to be the apocalypse.

Now, though, I don't feel exactly like that anymore. Lonely. Vega pounded that out of my system. Now I only feel lonely when she's not around. I really only feel fucked up when she's not around, too, lately. I should bring her to my next therapy session.

It's like I started to slow down instead of running away in my fortress, jogging beside her. Still running too fast for anyone to pull out a weapon and fire, so I didn't have to worry too much. But every once in a while I would have some anxiety attack and sprint ahead again.

That's me being spurred on by fear of rejection like a horse by spikes on cowboy boots. What happens when she gets scared of me? Or scared of what goes through my head? What happens when she leaves? Then what? It gets worse than it was, that's what. It won't be worth it in the long run, I repeated over and over in my head. But I just couldn't stop myself from slowing down again.

I didn't want to resist, because it made me feel so good at the moment, so why should I give a shit about the future?

That state of mind had never gotten me too far in the past, but it would be different this time, I'd make sure of it. Anything can make sense if you think about it hard enough.

See, no one gets my interest in scissors. They just don't think too far into it. If you think about what scissors can do. Deactivate a wired bomb. Cut through the restraints. That's what it all was – the trashcans, the flowers. Practice. Paranoid preparation for when I'd have to do those things.

But that's not all. One wrong move, you're on your deathbed. Or one right move. It's all perspective.

I love that – the danger. The thrill of possibility. Not enough to act on it, but it's so fun to think about.

That's the first hole in the suicide theory. If I was going to cut myself and then bleed to death, I would have used scissors. Probably medical scissors to make it easy and fast. Not a goddamn pocketknife. I didn't even _own_ a pocketknife.

Then again my dad does, and who's to say I wouldn't have borrowed it for the deed? Sounds like something I'd do – send a secret message to my father, blaming him without anyone but him knowing. Killing myself with one of his toys.

But something deep in my mind told me I was wrong. It promised me I didn't kill myself – that there was something more serious happening. That this wasn't suicide.

My father showed up. Over a week passed – it took that long for my only living parent to visit his only child. Pathetic. Why would he even bother showing up?

"I'm getting married." Oh. So that's why.

I scowled at him. "Why the fuck would I care?" I snapped.

He stood from where he was seated. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! I'm your _father_!" he yelled.

The scowl dropped from my face, my mouth turning to a straight line. "You are nothing to me. Get out."

He gave me a mocking smirk. "I'm bringing her here next week," he started. "She wants to meet you. God knows why. I expect you to be looking your best. No black. Cut those damn streaks out of your hair. Take all your piercings out, cover your disgusting tattoos."

Appearance. That's all that matters.

He walked over to the door, pulling it open harshly. He looked back. "And erase those scribbles off the walls. You're not a two year old." He shook his head condescendingly. "Sometimes I wonder how you grew up to be so damn useless."

Yeah, daddy? Well, sometimes I wonder how I managed to _only_ be this bad, with you raising me! Sometimes I wonder how much I must have sinned in some past life, to get stuck with _you_!

He slammed the door hard. As if I was the only one in this hospital. And that's how it felt. I felt completely alone now. More so than I'd felt in a long time.

All I wanted was to see Tori. But she'd been here for hours earlier today, she wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

I'd have to keep myself occupied.

**A/N - Isn't Jade's father a nice guy?**

**I found an analogy for the type of fluffish stuff in this story! It's like the stuffing inside a teddy bear. In that in order to get to it, you have to rip the teddy bear's head off. But once you get that part over with, it's so fun to throw around the entire house!**

**But then your parents get home, and they start freaking out 'cause that house inspector is coming in five minutes, and then your Mom gets the vaccum, but the stuffing gets jammed in it and then the vaccum starts smoking and sparking, and then the doorbell rings, and then your Dad has to pick up the vaccum and hold it under the smoke detector until it goes off.**

**But after all that, you run outside carrying your cat, yelling fire and the house inspector agrees to come back another time. So in the end it works out.**

**You get a free cookie if you review pointing out the hidden philosophy in those three paragraphs.**

**Actually, there is no hidden philosophy. That was just my attempt at bribing you into reviewing.**


	8. Prescription

**Chapter Eight**

We have lock downs every day.

No big deal, really. A patient tries to escape from this prison. They hit a button that locks every door to the rooms and the outside. Then they send every employee they have searching through hallways.

They search for half an hour maximum. At the end, they always find who they're looking for in the fetal position, sobbing. Locked in. And locked out, too.

If you have a mental breakdown in your room during that time, sucks for you. Which is ironic. Because the most mental breakdowns happen during that time.

See, it doesn't take long for people like me to feel claustrophobic. Trapped. It really doesn't matter how big of a space you give them. Hell, I feel trapped on earth. And with all the thinking I've been able to do lately without interruption, I've come to the conclusion that I'll _always_ be stuck here. Because earth is just purgatory – a place for the rejects of heaven and hell.

There's been instances where the second the lock down ends and the doors open, another one starts. Because of someone else feeling trapped and deciding to run for it.

They don't really have to lock anything, I don't think. It's a big hospital. No one could ever get out on their own.

I haven't been outside since I got here.

Sure, I have the option. They have marches. Like the ones in the holocaust only without the guns and with less death. They parade the mental patients around LA, two guards for every one person. Sure, people look at them, confused for two seconds, but then they go on with their lives.

Needless to say, I will never participate.

From lack of sun, my tan lines are completely gone. Not to say I had a ridiculously good tan before I came here – quite the opposite, really. But at least you could see a slight difference between the skin under my clothes and the rest of me.

And that's important to me. It gives a sense of intimacy, to anyone who sees you like that. Seeing skin nobody else normally sees and knowing it.

Not to say I'm planning on getting laid anytime soon, but still. It's one of my things.

Now, instead of letting me sit on a lawn chair on the roof what with the possibility of me jumping, they give me pills for it.

Vitamin D. Or, that's what it said on the bottle. Mr. Therapist just said, 'Take this.'

Apparently, people don't get enough of it. Nobody does, according to Mr. Therapist. Everyone should be taking it. We'll start you off on this. If it doesn't help, we'll have to get you on antidepressants.

I told Vega to look it up, tell me what it was for.

Things like Osteoporosis. Or hypertension. Parathyroid hormones. Cancer. Diabetes. Heart disease. Obesity. Multiple Sclerosis. I don't know what half of that is.

It's also used for Seasonal Affective Disorder. A form of depression that occurs during winter months due to lack of sunlight. The abbreviation for which is 'SAD' which I think is ironic.

I think Mr. Therapist has his forms of depression mixed up.

Side effects may include: excessive thirst, metal taste in mouth, poor appetite, weight loss, bone pain, tiredness, sore eyes, itchy skin, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, a frequent need to urinate and/or muscle problems.

All of which Mr. Therapist neglected to mention.

People with the following conditions should be careful when considering taking vitamin D supplements: high blood calcium or phosphorus levels, heart problems or kidney disease.

So no, Mr. Therapist, _not_ everyone should be taking it. Just mental patients with misleading therapists.

But I wasn't too upset. It's not like that would have helped anyway, even if it had been prescribed correctly. It's some over-the-counter, self-medication method anyway.

Maybe he should have just prescribed me sleeping pills. It's no secret I haven't slept for over an hour in days. Maybe he could find something that would make it impossible for me to have nightmares.

Through my thinking, I found that you always dream. Some people just don't remember it. Those who do are partially awake. Their conscious and subconscious merged together.

It makes sense. I've never really slept. That's why I'm tired all the time – 'cause I've never actually been asleep. Just dreaming while awake.

If Mr. Therapist could give me something that made sure I wouldn't dream, I would be asleep a long time, catching up on all the sleep I've lost in the past.

I would never wake up again.

**A/N - There you are. A rant on medication and lock downs. Oh, and tan lines.**

**I have no idea where half of it came from. But my Dad gave me Vitamin D to take everyday a long time ago.**

**I mean, I'm not, like, pissed at him for doing that or something - he was just trying to help. I'm just pissed at my therapist, is all. **

**Well, my old therapist. My new therapist is nice. He likes to play Go Fish. My old therapist liked to make me cry.**

**My new therapist also likes to talk about things that don't make too much sense to me. But, that's okay. I'd rather talk about things that don't make sense than things that _do._**

**Well, anyway, gotta mow the lawn now.**

**Later!**


	9. Accusation

**Chapter Nine**

It feels almost like I'm a faulty piece of equipment now.

Like I've been used so much, I just don't work anymore. Like I'm rusted. Like I'm useless.

Back to my father's words. How did I end up so useless? So pathetic? So uncontrolled that I had to be put in that cage of a room and observed?

I'd scribbled on the walls more, after he left. Out of spite. Ha. Take that. Maybe I am a two year old.

But if I was a two year old, I wouldn't be screwed up enough to land myself here.

I tried to turn everything gray. Soon I'd completely worn out the tip of my pencil, so I just rubbed the graphite all over the blank space, smudging it.

Maybe it wasn't as dark as the original space, but at least it wasn't white.

I went at that for hours. Maybe days, I didn't notice time passing. I didn't notice my aging.

When I was done the room was black.

Vega had to meet me in the lobby that day.

"Why are we out here?" she asked, looking confused.

I shrugged. "Cleaning," I said simply. Erasing my marks, my signature. The next person to live in that room won't look around, see black walls, and think, 'I guess it could be worse.' Or, 'Lucky bastard.' It's all perspective.

I suppose no one will ever know I've been here. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"I think he tried to kill me," I said.

She gaped. "Who's _he?_" she asked immediately.

I blinked, shocked she didn't already know. I thought we were at the mental telepathy stage. "My Dad," I said. "Who else?"

She leaned in closer to me from her seat. "Jade, are you serious? Or is this an early stage of paranoid schizophrenia?" she whispered.

I thought for a moment. "I think I'm serious," I said carefully and calmly. As if it was just a regular conversation. The kind we had everyday.

She sighed deeply. "Well, what _exactly_ makes you think so?" she whispered urgently, grabbing my shoulder and twisting me to look at her.

I shrugged once again. "I've been having... dreams. When I sleep, y'know," I murmured to her quickly. "Doesn't matter. How's school been?"

Her mouth dropped. "What the fuck do you mean, 'Doesn't matter!' Of course it _matters,_ Jade! Nothing _else_ matters!" she snapped. The reception lady looked over, eyebrows raised. Tori spared her a glance. "Just rehearsing for a play. Go back to your business," she called over nervously.

The reception lady just looked away, uninterested. I suppose she's used to seeing people act insane around here.

"Jade, it's a big accusation, okay?" Tori said, pulling my eyes back to her. "Having dreams isn't going to be good enough." I'm not good enough. I know that's not what she said, I know that's not what she meant. But it's what I heard.

I'm not too used to it yet, the way she talks to me now. The swearing, the understanding aspect of it all. It's so confusing to me.

"I'm pretty sure it was his pocketknife. The one that cut me," I stated. "I don't remember everything perfectly, you know that. I just have this feeling that it has something to do with him. I don't know why."

She closed her eyes. "Tell me about your dream," she whispered softly.

When you die, a light's not all you see. There's a black hole, too. That's the pathway to hell.

You can only go to hell if you want to. That's what makes you truly evil – the lack of respect for God, or whatever there is. You have to want to be with the devil. So, if you decide you deserve hell, you take the black hole there.

Everyone gets that black hole. Doesn't matter if you were a hit man or a priest in your life, everyone has that choice. Not everyone will get that white light – heaven is like a high-security prison in that it's really hard to get there if you haven't met the qualifications. And pointless to even try.

If you don't get the option of heaven, and you don't want to go to hell, you can walk into a gray area. Earth. Purgatory. Try your hardest to be good enough for God this time around. Some people give up after awhile, deciding that being in hell is better than having to live another lifetime. Some people just keep trying.

And then there's me. The type of disturbed soul that wouldn't go to heaven even if it was offered. The type who'd rather go to purgatory. The type who hates the idea that someone could be completely pure. Or completely evil.

What no one understands is heaven is empty.

And then hell. I couldn't stand it. There would be no light at all to distract myself from the darkness in my mind.

But if Tori Vega chose to go there, I'd be directly behind her.

**A/N - Sigh.**

**Again, don't know where it came from. I guess I have some vault for depressing rambles somewhere in my brain.**

**Alright, I have something to promote! If you understand half of the metaphorical meaning in this story, you should look at the lyrics to 'Hush, Hush' by Heathers. 'Cause it's really depressing. And if you got this far, you must enjoy those types of things.**

**That and it's an amazing song. And I swear, I'm not being paid to say that. Really.**

**So, tell me. If someone you loved went to hell would you follow them?**

**If your answer's no, you've never been in love.**


	10. Entertainment

**Chapter Ten**

All the music I listen to now is in foreign languages.

I like it. When I don't know what they're saying. That way, I don't have to think about it much. I can just get through it without trying to decode every word into what I want it to mean. Because when I don't know what it means, it doesn't have to mean anything.

I got back into my room a bit after I was removed from it. The walls were spotless. My mark was gone. I have to ask someone who works there what cleaning supplies they use.

Vega followed me in. She sat on my bed, patting the place next to her. Either inviting me to sit or killing a bug.

I sat anyway.

It sucks. Being dependent on her. It's almost painful. I went through my whole life alone; it really shouldn't hurt so bad to try to keep her out.

"You shouldn't take anything I say seriously, you know," I muttered to her.

She looked over, her eyebrows raising in question.

I cleared my throat. "It's just that most of the time I'm lying," I continued quietly. "I just don't really say things how I mean them."

She smiled reassuringly. "I know, Jade," she replied. "Don't worry about it so much. I know it's hard for you to say how you feel."

It's not exactly hard for me to say it, I thought. I'm just afraid of how it'll sound.

I have no sense of hunger anymore. The only way I know it's time to eat is when the bell rings for lunch here. The alarm.

They watch you, the people working. Make sure you're eating. If you won't, they'd shove it down your throat in one way or another, I'm sure of it.

You see, we're all science experiments. We're here so that normal people who are having a bad day can look at us and say, 'Well, it could be worse.'

You know what really shows my insanity? The fact that there has been points in my life when I'd think that the whole purpose in it is entertainment.

That some higher power is looking down on me, watching me screw up. Try to resolve my problems. Try to run from my problems. Try to end my problems with a pocketknife. Knows more about me than I know about myself. Am I suicidal? Am I out of my mind? Does any of that actually matter anymore?

I know Vega's told me to stop worrying, to relax a bit. I can't. It's not physically possible for me. I'm so used to it now, this being uptight, I can't remember what it was like to be calm.

I don't know if I ever was.

Music can give me a glimpse into a sane mind every once and a while. Really good harmony. Or a brilliant melody. But sometimes, when the lyrics come from the heart, it's dangerous. Because then I'm ripped out of that sanity, and shoved straight back into my mind.

And then it's worse. After I get to see what I could be like. It hurts a lot more then, being like me.

Awhile ago, before I realized I didn't want heaven or hell, I came up with this: I'd rather go straight to hell than have a taste of heaven ripped away.

That makes me scared to go for things. Like Tori. It might be good for awhile, if it got anywhere, but when it ended it would be terrible.

It's times like these, when I realize that, that I feel lost. I have no idea what to do. Ever. And I suppose I should just let it happen, go along with it. But that's not an option for me in anything.

"Jade," Tori said, looking at me. I looked back at her, startled. "You okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah...," I trailed off, coming out of my thoughts. "Sorry, just thinking is all." I stood, walking over to the window, pulling the white shade up and glancing out. People outside, getting their Vitamin D.

"About what?" she asked, closer than I thought she'd be. Right behind me. Analyzing.

I hesitated. But I'm done with hesitation. "How does it feel?" I questioned, not turning, my voice coming out softer than I figured it would.

She came closer, putting her chin on my shoulder. "How does what feel?" she asked in a voice that made me think she probably knew what I was asking about.

"Being normal," I whispered down to her.

She sighed, wrapping her arms around my waist. "I'm far from normal, Jade," she whispered back, pushing my hair away, revealing my skin. Then she placed her lips in a firm kiss on the side of my neck.

She turned down the bed covers before she left.

**A/N - I'm goin on a road trip type of thing today. So I had to get up at this unholy hour to update this.**

**Should be fun, I suppose. Probably not. Oh well. I probably won't update again until real late today or tomorrow. Just hope for the best.**

**I love all you guys who reviewed, by the way! Even if you only did it to prove both of your hands were undamaged. Works for me.**

**For those of you who haven't reviewed... eh, I love you anyway! **


	11. Doubt

**Chapter Eleven**

Actors are so dramatic.

It's because we live in movies, where every little gesture means something important. Someone's life story crammed into two hours. Every glance, every picture needs to have symbolism.

I don't know which is more accurate: my life or some fictional character's. Not that big of a difference, I guess.

Tori must have really low standards, to be even remotely interested in me.

They don't let me have writing utensils anymore. With good reason, but it still feels like a violation of the Constitution.

Now that my room will never be anything but white, I spend no time in it. I sleep in the lobby. Nobody notices, I'm just another shadow.

It hasn't caused a lock down, 'cause nobody cares enough to realize my room is vacant. Figures.

There's a couple big windows overlooking the city in the lobby. They made me realize how much I hate this city.

It's ridiculous, how much we all get so absorbed in our own lives. Everyone passes by each other, not sparing a second glance. Unless you're attractive.

Just keep walking, thinking you have somewhere to be. But you're going nowhere.

Nowhere at all.

Now's a good time for that whole Noah's Ark thing again, God. As if you're listening.

But I get over the disgusting view as soon as I realize it adds thousands of colors to that white wall. And I love that; the way it calms me.

It's hard to hate a city when you love it.

It's hard to hate a girl when you love her.

The desert's growing.

It's called overgrazing. Animals eat grass around the border, the desert gets bigger. And bigger. It'll just keep growing, until it consumes us all.

Now the cities are growing, too. Consuming our minds. Changing the way we think.

If you think about the story, sure, Noah was a nice guy, but does that mean everyone else in the world was evil?

What makes someone evil? Is anyone _really_ evil? Am I evil? Am I possessed by some demon who's making me think this way? If I am, is it my fault?

Wouldn't that make Noah evil, not throwing life rafts out to the people drowning around him? Did they all go to hell? What makes their disbelief so bad? Is it a terrible thing, thinking for yourself, not being gullible?

And who's fault is it if they're evil? Surely they can't be blamed. God created them, if he didn't want them to fuck up their lives, he shouldn't have given them the will to!

God's judgment is supposed to be above all else. Well, what about _my _judgment? Does that matter at all? Can't I think for myself?

I hate this – sounding like a confused, lost little kid. Asking questions everyone gets offended by, but never has the answers to.

What people don't get is reading the Bible doesn't give you the right to call yourself Christian. My father thinks he's a Christian.

I don't think I should even have to tell you how wrong he is.

Reading the book is just meant to get you started on thinking about morals, how you should live. It's not meant to give you specific directions. You're not supposed to tell anybody they're living their lives wrong, that's supposed to be God's job, that's the whole damn point!

So, yeah, now I'm an atheist.

Sometimes I buy a blank calendar. Then I don't touch it for a year. Then I rip it apart and place it in the garbage truck personally.

Another year gone by, nothing to show for it. Twelve months gone from my life. Fifty-two point one seven weeks, still as fucked as ever.

It's just to be sure that I know that time is passing. That I'm aging. That I might not have too much of my life left. That I'm still doing nothing with it.

I don't celebrate New Years. I mourn old ones.

I mourn nothing else.

Some people think I have a heart. A soul.

They're wrong.

I didn't cry at my mother's funeral. So go ahead, try and justify that. The one who gave birth to me, someone who made me _exist. _And I didn't even cry.

Actually, I think that's the problem.

I don't want to exist.

**A/N - JUST SO WE'RE CLEAR... I'm definitely not trying to offend anyone or to compromise anybody's religion. Just emphasizing on the loss of faith going on here.**

**If you're not Christian, I didn't use Christianity because I think it's _better_ or something. Just because there are a lot of idiots that claim to be from that religion. It's all about love and acceptance, but some people don't really... get that.**

**Not to say all Christians are idiots or something. That's ridiculous. It's got good morals, if you're smart enough to figure them out.**

**Jumping out of that minefield, how was it? Good? Bad? Did it make you cry? No idea how to classify that.**


	12. Cofrontation

**Chapter Twelve**

Snow's a really confusing thing, when you think about it.

It's beautiful, falling down softly. Covering harsh colors.

White.

But it's fucking cold. It gives people frostbite, they freeze to death. Or lose limbs and have to live with it. Sure, it's beautiful when you look at it from inside your living room, sitting in front of a fire. But not when you're sleeping in it.

Decomposing in it.

I've never seen snow in my life. Should I be happy about that? I am.

Not much makes me happy anymore, so I'll take it.

Beck stopped by again. It's kind of odd. Tori comes by everyday, and it's my boyfriend's second visit in two weeks. I guess we're a bit distant lately.

Beck sat, looking at me. "What's going on?" he asked.

I looked at him oddly. "Elaborate," I snapped. I didn't want to be a bitch. But I have a reputation. Appearance. That's all I am.

He looked at me for awhile. "Between you and Tori. What's going on between you and Tori?" I felt like he had a gun pointed at my head, like this was life or death.

"Nothing," I choked out. Then I cleared my throat. "Nothing's going on, Beck."

He scoffed, looking betrayed. "Don't give me that bull, Jade! Ever since you were sent here, she's barely been talking to _anyone_! She's always busy after school because she's always coming straight here and then sulking in her room!" he yelled, standing.

I gulped, taking in this new information. I wonder if the people in the rooms next to mine get annoyed with all the noise going on in here. I wonder if they're too lost in their own worlds to notice. I wonder if they're worse than me – if all my whining about my problems is aimless.

Beck sat slowly, looking at me sadly. "I love you, Jade. I just want you to be happy. Don't you get that?" he whimpered. "If I don't make you happy, I don't want to hold you back from what will. And you're holding me back, too. From someone who might actually love me back."

I closed my eyes. I hate it. Hurting people. And the thing that hurts the most is he's right.

"We have to break up, Jade," he said. "It's just not working out. Continuing would just degrade us both further." He walked over, kissing me on the lips for the last time.

Nothing.

I felt more when Tori kissed me on my forehead that first time. Or on the neck. Which scares me. A lot.

"Goodbye, Jade." Then he walked out of my life.

Beck was gone, and I felt no remorse. Not even a little sadness, after dating him for years. Well, no more than I usually feel all the time anyway.

I almost felt relieved.

Vega showed up a bit later.

"Beck broke up with me," I told her indifferently.

She looked up, surprised. "Why's that?" she asked innocently.

I shrugged. "Our relationship was a lie." No reason for me to end it, but apparently it is for Beck. If I ended everything that was a lie, I'd be dead. If you take my life into account.

"Oh...," she said.

I looked up at her. "He said some stuff," I started carefully. "About how you've been."

She looked up, eyes guarded. "What did he say?" she asked carefully.

"Just that you haven't been acting too happy at school lately – since I left," I whispered. "I was just thinking about how we don't talk about you much. It's always about me, how I'm doing. How it is here, right?" I pondered casually. "I just wanna know how you are is all."

She looked at me, sizing me up. "I'm fine, Jade. I'm just worried about you."

"Yeah," I started. "It's just that, I'm worried about _you_ now. I don't want to be the reason you lose all your friends, or fail your classes or something."

She glanced at me. "Have I ever told you you think too much, Jade?" she asked. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. You have enough to worry about already, what with what got you in here. If you add anymore on you'll explode."

She left quickly afterward. I had a lot to think about.

She's pretty defensive about her problems. She has the instinct to turn it around on who she's talking to.

Which is exactly what I do.

I hope to God she doesn't have my mindset.

Because she's the only stable thing I can really hold on to anymore. Beck was pretty even-minded – but I was never really close enough to grab hold anyway. If she's as screwed over as I am, all I can do is try to hold her together.

And hope she returns the gesture.

**A/N - Dun, Dun, DUNNNN!**

**Gasp! Dramatic Dialogue!**

**Well, that roadtrip thing was kind of fun, suprisingly. But it took a hell of a lot of energy out of me, and I woke up approximately an hour ago.**

**I feel _really_ bad for how I made Beck end up all alone. But, eh, things happen. He'll get over it quickly enough.**

**I'm still tired.**

**C'ya later!**


	13. Beginning

**Chapter Thirteen**

I hate crying.

It's terrible. And, lately, I do it often.

I know, Jade West crying? You'd think it'd never happen. But really, by now I'm used to it. Odd things happening.

The only reason I hate it is because I don't realize when I'm doing it. Sometimes tears will be running down my face and I won't realize it until Vega has her arms around me, whispering in my ear, rubbing my back.

See, when you cry, people automatically figure something's wrong. But if that was the case I would be crying all the time.

And it gets annoying, crying constantly. Your eyes swell up. It gets old, the concern other people whip at you. So I learned to stop crying.

I learned to only cry in my sleep. In my dreams.

But now it's showing up during the day – it's as if my thoughts are getting worse. Being here is making me worse. I don't have much to distract myself with. I have free time.

"I need to get out of here," I sobbed into Tori's shoulder one day. "It's not helping me at all."

"I know," she whispered comfortingly. "I know it seems like a terrible place to be right now, but you need to try to get through it. Even if you didn't try to kill yourself, you _do _need help, Jade. And I know you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth."

My sobs quickly slowed down, coming less often. Eventually they turned to sniffles. I pulled back, looking away.

"How do you always know what to say?" I asked, my voice coming out old and worn out. My lungs ached, as did my eyelids.

"No idea," she responded, her voice coming out the same way. I looked over to her tear-stained face.

I laughed lightly. "Why are _you_ crying?" I asked, feeling lighter than usual.

She smiled sadly, rubbing under her eyes. "No idea. Just hits close to home, I guess."

My eyebrows raised. "How so?" I whispered.

She shrugged, picking up my hand. "Not important."

"No," I said, pulling my hand back, smile dropping. "You _are_ important, Tori. Tell me what the hell's going on."

She looked up, surprised. When she saw I was serious, she cleared her throat quickly. "It's no big deal, Jade. Really."

I shook my head. "It is a big deal! I need to know what it is you can't tell me...," I muttered, looking down.

"Okay," she said. "You really need to know? It's not that big a deal."

"Tell me," I said commandingly.

She sighed. "Awhile before I switched schools, probably seventh grade or something, I was really depressed, okay? I got my parents to get me a therapist and eventually got on Prozac. I was lucky, it helped me. That's all there is to it."

I stared at her. "You... depressed?" I asked, almost waiting for her to go 'Psyche!'

She raised her eyebrows, shrugging. "Well, not much anymore. Every once and awhile I have a little relapse, yeah. But it really doesn't come back much. That's why I think this is good for you. You might figure yourself out; get better."

Tori Vega. Happy-go-lucky, helps everyone Tori Vega.

It's not too surprising for me to be screwed up – I'm obsessed with death, constantly wear black, have a thousand piercings. But _Tori Vega._

"Jade?" she asked nervously. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly.

Vega giggled. "It's late; I should go," she said reluctantly.

She stood up. She leaned down, resting her hands on my shoulders.

And then she kissed me.

No, not a kiss on the forehead, not even on the neck (that would have been friggin' _weird_). On the lips.

I was so shocked, I almost missed it.

And then the coolest thing happened – I _stopped thinking._

She pulled back, laughing softly at the look on my face. "Goodnight, Jade," she said quietly.

She walked out the door.

I fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn't look the same anymore.

Then I rolled over, closing my eyes.

Is no one sane?

**A/N - I know, right? So sweet I almost want to throw up.**

**I was listening to Tegan and Sara while writing this, so sorry if it feels like I was a little distracted.**

**I just mowed my lawn two days ago, and it's already overgrown. I swear to God it's radioactive.**

**Oh, you should review. Or else I'll engage in my obsession with jigsaw puzzles and not update! Mwahaha!**

**No, not really. I'll end up updating even if nobody reads this entire chapter. Hell, I'll update if every review I get says "Please don't update!"**

**So take that!**


	14. Savior

**Chapter Fourteen**

When I take showers I like to start them off at scolding temperatures.

Just to freak myself out. It might be a form of self-harm. But nobody can possibly notice. And even if by some chance someone did, they'd figure it was an accident.

It gets my mind off of things, when I have to focus on the heat. I don't have to feel emotional pain so much. And it helps me, to know I can still feel.

I don't usually think of it that way. 'Cause it makes me realize that I have issues. So I just think of it as waking myself up

But I usually get used to it fairly quickly. And maybe I can turn it hotter a bit, but it only gets me so far. And my dad always gets pissed, when I use up all that oil.

So after it stops hurting, I turn it as cold as it can get. And then that pain comes back.

It feels the same as the burning hot water. It's part of the reason why I'm so white all the time – I end all my showers at an incredibly cold temperature.

When I told Tori this, she slapped me. Hard.

Then she pressed me into the wall, kissing me for all I'm worth. Actually, for more than I'm worth.

And it was at that precise moment, her lips on my neck, her hands up my shirt, my breath hitching, that my father decided to walk in.

"So you're a dyke then?" he asked angrily.

Tori jumped back as though burned, almost tripping backwards. She probably would've fallen had I not caught her arm. "Shit," she muttered, stepping in front of me.

Then I saw the woman behind him. Tall, blonde, blue eyes. Younger than him. And I had a flashback.

The same woman, standing over me, knife in hand.

"No hard feelings, Jade," she said in a voice tinted with insanity. The sound came through groggily, as though I was drugged.

I was drugged.

Then the strongest pain I'd ever felt in my arm ripped me out of my reverie and back to the present.

I dragged my arm up, into my vision. I saw my scar, jagged, running over my forearm.

I hadn't noticed my dad venting his frustration on me, screaming. My five words trampled him into silence.

"You tried to kill me," I stated, staring directly at her.

No denial. Not even a shake of the head.

The silence palpable, my father turned to her. "You tried to kill my daughter?" he asked disbelievingly. "My flesh and blood? My life after death?" Well, he didn't care this much five seconds ago. "What are you, a fucking serial killer?"

She glanced at him calmly. "If I was a serial killer, I would have counted on her girlfriend over here showing up so soon and calling an ambulance."

My head whipped over to Tori, my jaw dropping open. "You...," I trailed off.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, I found you."

"But why didn't you tell me?" I asked emotionally.

She shrugged. "I dunno," she whispered. "I didn't want you to look at me like I saved your life or something. It really wasn't me, it was the doctors."

"Fuck the doctors, Vega," I replied.

The doctors didn't save me. The doctors didn't go to my house because they were worried when I didn't show at school. The doctors just fix up the broken things they're given.

I looked over at my father. He was yelling at his fiancee, screaming some bullshit about how much I meant to him. As if it wouldn't be his fault if I _had_ attempted suicide. I wish someone would scream at him like that; tell him what a terrible person he really is.

Not to say she didn't deserve it too. What a sickening couple.

And then I looked over at Tori, seeing her eyes still trained on me. How could I possibly deserve this? I don't think I've done _anything_ in my life to justify having someone like her be in it.

"Tori...," I whispered. "I think I'm in love with you."

She smiled, grabbing my hand. "Well, that's good, 'cause if you weren't we would have a problem. And we have enough of those to deal with right now, don't we Jade?"

I think I stopped running from her a long time ago. I think I realized she was completely unarmed. I think I accepted the fact that she had an extra set of keys to my fortress, and now I trust her to take care of them.

**A/N - It actually isn't over yet. So don't waste your tears.**

**It would be weird, if that lady just decided to murder her for absolutely no reason. So I'm gonna have to deal with that.**

**So, anyone wanna share their thoughts? No? Okay. :(**

**Have a good day! And review. Or I'll send the nameless murdering lady after you. :O**


	15. Causes

**Chapter Fifteen**

My father left soon enough, screaming something that sounded like a mix of 'The marriage is off!' and 'I'm calling the cops!'

Which surprised me. Because I would think he wouldn't call the cops – what would his employers think of him when they found out his insane fiancee almost murdered his supposedly suicidal daughter?

He probably wasn't thinking straight.

And neither was I.

My almost-step-mother stayed, looking off in the distance. Tori got a bit protective and pulled me further behind her, which I found cute. As if she could fend off this chick if she decided to try and finish the job.

"You know, Jade," my attacker started. "Your father never stopped loving your mother."

I rolled my eyes, taking a step closer. Tori grabbed my hand, stopping me from getting too far away. "Bullshit. My parents hated each other," I stated confidently.

She got this faraway look in her eyes. "It's not nice to swear," she said calmly. Then she came back, looking me in the eye again. "Your father loved your mother with all his heart. She loved his money. He found out when he invested in the wrong places."

I stared at her, confused. She wasn't right. She couldn't be. Someone as devilish as my father couldn't _love._

"He tried to save the marriage," she continued. "He couldn't. So he divorced her, hoping she would realize that she really _did_ love him."

She walked over, sitting on my bed. Tori tried to pull me back, but I held my ground.

She looked at us, analyzing. "She spent all of her money on booze and drank herself to death. He had no idea whether it was because of him or her financial issues," she glanced at me directly. "Why do you think he's so bitter? It's because he still loves her. No one's born that way. Nobody's born evil – it's what God puts us through that makes us betray him."

I remembered back, just a few days ago. Thinking the same things. I can't be like her. But what makes us any different?

She saw I wasn't planning to say a word and continued. "He hates you. Why? Because when he looks at you, it's her he sees. And all that anger, all that frustration towards her, he throws out at you," she said, looking at the ceiling. The circles.

"But you have to understand, Jade. He loves you too. He's just scared to show it. Because the last time he showed how much he loves you, you drank yourself to death." She glanced at me, waiting for my reaction.

I showed nothing.

She smiled, satisfied. "You're the last trace of your mother, honey. I was just trying to help, getting rid of you. Just to help him to move on so he could love me. And now? Now I have nothing," she whispered. "You don't have to worry. I'll plead guilty."

She looked in deep thought for a moment. "Maybe I can get off on insanity. Spend the rest of my life in one of these nice places. Dulled by pills. It's just a prison with more perks." She came out of thought, looking over at me. "I'll have to think about it," she said, smiling. "Have a good day, Jade. Tori."

Then she left.

The second the door closed, Tori's grip on my hand relaxed. She turned me around, pulling me into her. "Don't take anything she said seriously, Jade," she whispered. "She's out of her mind."

I pulled back. "So am I," I said, completely hollow. "Does that mean... does that mean no one should listen to what _I_ have to say?" I choked out.

She gaped. "Of course not! You aren't _that_ insane! You would never kill anybody, no matter what!"

I looked away. I don't know anymore. I'm not even sure of that. If I was in that situation, who's to say I wouldn't? I wasn't even sure I didn't try to kill myself at one point in here.

She had to leave soon afterward, having to be home by dinner. All she did between that time was assure me I wouldn't hurt a fly. Over and over, holding me in the center of the room.

Who's to say I wouldn't?

Hell, if I was in my father's situation, I probably _would_ have killed myself. In every sense.

I don't even know who I am anymore.

**A/N - You know, I _thought_ this was gonna be the last chapter. Appearantly, I_ thought_ incorrectly.**

**I don't know where I'm going with this anymore. I got this far, now how the hell do I find a way to make Jade get instantly better?**

**Sigh.**

**This is like that time my cousin and I bought that map, then he closed his eyes and pointed at it and made me give him directions to that place.**

**I didn't realize where we were headed until we drove into the lake.**

**Let's hope this thing ends better.**


	16. Release

**Chapter Sixteen**

The day she was jailed was the day I was released.

See, the clinic_ is_ real similar to a jail. You get your own room; your cell. You're led to the cafeteria at noon on the dot. That's where most of the riots happen. You put hundreds of nuts together in a big room, they'll fuck with each other, it's human nature.

You only can get out in three ways.

Good behavior. But they watch you, make sure you weren't acting. You're just on parole.

Found innocent in trial. I was found innocent recently. If you've been paying attention, I don't have to tell you how.

Bailed out. You can get anywhere with money, you know.

Or you can break out, but as I've established, that's more trouble than it's worth.

Jails are only there for the mental cases that have lived so fucked up for so long, they know how to seem normal. They can't get off on insanity because they aren't insane.

Or so it appears. And that's all that matters, now isn't it?

It doesn't matter how many voices you have in your head – if you can hide them, you're just as sane as everyone else.

But then you're living a lie. Some people can't handle that. I can.

I was expected to head right back to school the second I got home. My father wouldn't even look at me. But I wouldn't know, 'cause I wouldn't look at him. And when there's two sets of eyes completely avoiding each other, you find plenty to distract yourself with.

Of course I was expecting everyone to be thinking of me as a mental patient. Talking about me behind my back – hell, right in front of my face. No one would be expecting to be confronted about that, because, well, everyone's acting that way.

I like being unpredictable. I do things I shouldn't do, just to surprise people. I'm an entertainer. That's my future occupation.

So yeah, I did scream at a freshman for glancing at me and then whispering to her friend. I did rip Andre's keyboard off his locker and hold it up as if to hit her with it. I'm not gonna lie and say none of that happened.

I am gonna lie and say I didn't get butterflies in my stomach when Vega tore that from my hands and threw it on the ground, dragging me by the wrist into the janitors closet. I didn't.

Really.

"Jade..," she whispered harshly, trying to figure out what she was planning to say no doubt. "You can't just _do_ things like that anymore! Some people aren't idiots, no matter how much you want them to be! They _know!_ When you beat someone with a keyboard, that's grounds for throwing you in a mental institution! Do you want to go back?"

"No," I muttered. "But I don't like the way she was looking at me."

Vega sighed, rubbing her eyes. "It's not the same anymore. You can't just do these things without someone reading into them." She got a confused look on her face. "In fact, why hasn't anyone ever read into them before now?" She shook her head, going to walk by me.

I turned her, pushing her into the door gently with my hips. "You always look into the things I do," I whispered, studying her face. "Too much for your own good, really, Tori."

Her eyes almost closed and her mouth opened a bit, letting out a soft gasp when I got impossibly closer. "Can I kiss you?" I whispered gently. If anyone besides her saw me like this, they'd think I wasn't being myself.

That's because myself as anyone else knows it doesn't exist.

She tried to clear her throat. But it didn't work too well; her voice still came out husky as hell. "Of course."

I leaned in, our noses touching. It's all anticipation. In everything, really.

Then I tilted my chin forward, just barely touching her lips with mine.

And then the doorknob turned.

Tori yelped as it bumped her hip bone, jumping up.

Maybe anticipation isn't particularly great in this situation, actually, as that jump sent her knee into an area I'd rather not discuss, and I automatically let out a guttural moan that could surely be heard through the door.

She smirked at me quickly before getting off of the door, sending Cat Valentine tumbling inside.

We stared at her for awhile, not saying anything.

She smiled brightly. "Hi Jade! I was just looking for you everywhere, and I figure I'd try in here since you always seem to be in here instead of in class, and... what were you two doing?"

Tori and I looked at each other, panicked. "Nothing," we said simultaneously.

There was a long silence until Tori said, "Well... if you were looking for her, I guess I'll just get going now," and left.

**A/N - Hey there!**

**This chapter was a bit lighter, what with the whole almost-making out theme of it.**

**I hope you enjoyed that. Oh, by the way, I had a dream that the radioactive grass in my backyard kept growing until it merged into trees. And then my backyard turned into a swamp somehow and I had magical powers so I could kinda fly over it but not really.**

**And then there was a caveman that talked like a college student out there who decided I was the devil and kept trying to kill me, and then I started puking my guts out for no reason and my mother disowned me.**

**Then I kept trying to show this girl shadow puppets in a treehouse in broad daylight.**

**So, yeah. That's what this chapter's about.**


	17. Asexuality

**Chapter Seventeen**

When people assume things, it really pisses me off. And that's all some people ever do.

Sometimes it's a good thing, I guess. If someone owns a gun for no particular reason, you can assume that that person is a murderer and _not_ befriend him or her.

And then sometimes it's a bad thing. Especially when people assume correctly.

"So...," Cat said awkwardly, rocking back and forth nervously.

I blinked at her. "I don't have time for this," I said, walking out the door. Even though I really did. I just wanted to pretend like I was expected somewhere. The city conduct.

She followed. "Jade," she said, her voice deeper than it usually is. More real. I looked back. "If she makes you happy you should know I'm happy for you."

I looked around, terrified. We're in the middle of the damn hallway! Of course, it _was_ empty since everyone was in class, but there could be somebody hiding in a corner skipping or something.

"You should be happy about this, I think," she continued. "That you can love. Who even cares who it's with, Jade? At least you can."

Her eyes got a bit watery. "I can't, Jade. I can't love. I don't know what it's like. I don't even lust. I can go through the motions, sure. But I feel nothing. Everything is about love, and I never got it, and I never will."

Cat Valentine. Asexual. This is new.

It doesn't make too much sense. She's always talking about cute boys. Throwing herself after them.

Then again, it does. The stage kissing thing with Robbie – she wasn't lying. She felt nothing. It's a lie, that stage kissing isn't exactly like regular kissing. Both mean nothing to her, both mean too much to everyone else.

The real Cat Valentine is a lucky bastard, if she is asexual.

If I assumed correctly.

Because really, think about it. She'll never have her heart broken. She can escape so much drama, so much pain.

But actually, when I _do_ think about it, it sucks. She'll never have love. She'll search her whole life for meaning, and she'll never be able to find it. I've found it already. The meaning of life is so clear when I'm in Tori Vega's arms.

Cat will never have that.

Cat will grow up in her act, marry some handsome boy who she's not into. Because it's easier that way. And she just hates to be alone.

Cat and I are the same. Beck was company. Beck was convenient. She'll go off, find someone who's convenient. Whoever makes her life seem normal.

See? Cat and I _are_ the same. Only, I'm better. Luckier. Which isn't usually what I'd consider myself.

I turned around after I watched her leave.

The rest of the day I sat still in the janitor's closet, staring at the wall. Listening to screaming on my iPod.

Because it's better, when I don't understand what they're saying. It doesn't need to mean anything.

Fuck foreign music, I need something angry, I need something that yells 'unfair' without saying a word.

I put it on full blast and fell asleep to it.

I slept till the morning. No one knew where the fuck I was, I bet. But only one person would really care anyway. And that's hopeful thinking. She didn't look for me, now did she? Probably figured I went home.

The sound in my dream was drowned out by voices ripping through my ears about things I didn't do to them. I saw, sure. I went through the motions.

I dreamed of sitting in a janitor's closet, staring at the wall, listening to screamo. I dreamed of the light leaving the walls, of me being submerged in darkness. And then the light coming back, forcing me to see everything as it is.

Because my subconscious couldn't come up with anything more fucked up.

That or I was awake the whole time.

I woke up to whispering in my ear. Whispering I shouldn't be able to decode, whispering that's demonic in the sense that it might just be being said in a thousand different languages at once.

"And as always, innocent little roller coasters. Fatality is like ghosts in snow and you have no idea what you're up against because I've seen what they look like. Becoming perfect as though they were sterling silver chainsaws going cascading...,"

And then I was deaf.

**A/N - Hello.**

**The song I used in here was 'Vampires Will Never Hurt You' by My Chemical Romance.**

**It's not necessarily 'screamo' per say, but it has that ending, which I thought was screwed up and, therefore, worthy of this story.**

**Not to say that anything isn't worthy of this story. That sounded concieted, actually, but I'm too lazy to go back and delete it.**

**Anywho, go look that song up if you haven't heard it. Or if you have. **

**It's not my favorite song or anything, but it's still good. Y'know. If you're into death, murder, ect.**

**Oh, and you should review if you haven't. For those of you who have, good job! You're amazing! Now go review again!**


	18. Trial

**Chapter Eighteen**

I like to think that what I have to say matters. But I'm wrong. I'm just another voice in a thousand.

See, you can think you actually matter, but then you have to think about who matters to you. And no one matters to me.

Except for Tori.

Which really screws over my theory that no one gives a shit about me. So thanks for that, Vega.

Now I have to actually think about what I'm about to do. I used to just do things, because, hell, no one cares anyway so what's the point?

Now that someone cares I can't really do too many stupid things. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

The jury seems to be hanging onto my every word, but that's only because what I'm saying is interesting.

That's the only reason you're reading this, isn't it? Because I'm interesting. But I'm really not. I'm really not an exhibit at the zoo. I'm just fucked up. I should be institutionalized.

I came to terms with that a long time ago. I'm not special. I'm not smart, or talented, or intriguing. Sure, I pass my classes. Sure, I sing well, I can act. But that's not even me.

These thoughts, they might make you think, but they mean nothing I assure you. A sane person doesn't have these thoughts. They're more trouble than they're worth. They aren't worth anything, really.

You wouldn't watch a movie about nothing. But the majority of my life, that's all that's happened. Nothing. It's only fairly recently that the events became as jumbled as my mind.

Being under oath really doesn't mean a thing. It's just to make you feel guilty if you lie.

I don't know why they need me up here. All I know is what I was told. All I know is just a blur in my mind, injected by the crazy lady who cut me.

Vega is waiting where ever it is they're planning to cart me off to next. She always is. I get through with something, she comforts me. Then I'm brought to something else. Repeating.

The whole time I was talking I was thinking about how I want to get famous. I want to be famous for finding out how to break the water cycle.

Just to fuck with your head, that's the reason I said that.

Really, that's the only reason I say anything anymore.

Sometimes, when I pass in an English assignment where we have to write something 'from the heart' or some shit like that, it's so choppy no one could decode it. That's the point. You don't ask someone without a heart to write something from the heart, or that's what you'll get.

If my teachers knew shit about writing, they would have called it genius. But they failed me.

Problem is, I _do_ have a heart. I never thought I did, but I do.

Even so, who's to grade my writing? It's all the reader.

I stopped writing after I failed English.

If this sounds all over the place, it's because I fucking want it to be.

No one can tell me who to be anymore. No one but Tori fucking Vega, 'cause I'd rip my own heart out if she asked me to.

Maybe I'll hand this in for an English assignment this year. Just to make my teacher find a grade lower than an F.

Did I mention they made me keep my therapist? And he referred me to a psychiatrist, who then gave me a prescription for a drug I can't pronounce?

It isn't helping much, that much is obvious.

I can pass out on demand, you know. Because most of the time I have to work real hard to _not_ pass out. So it wasn't too hard for me, walking down from the stand, to faint and then wake up in the hospital for the second time in the past month.

Mustn't have looked good to the jury, but she was still found guilty.

I wasn't paying attention when Mr. Therapist was explaining things. But I heard something about a bad reaction to the drug. Something about taking me off of it, trying something else.

I lost faith in medicine a long time ago when my mommy wouldn't wake up.

They can use me as a lab rat, I don't give a shit. They can test out new remedies on me, they can do whatever the fuck they want.

Did I mention I was the reason my parents got married? They wanted to have a kid, so they decided to.

I thought for so long it was my fault they divorced, and nobody cared enough to tell me otherwise.

I just fuck everything up, don't I?

**A/N - It wasn't supposed to make too much sense. Let's just leave it at that.**

**Just 'cause people think things I say have some deep meaning to them.**

**Anything can mean something if you think about it hard enough.**

**Woah, I'm sorry. I'm still in depressing, nonsensical writing mode. I'm supposed to be in quirky, nonsensical author's note mode.**

**It would probably be beneficial to leave and go write some more.**

**So later homies!**


	19. Escape

**Chapter Nineteen**

You would think that the whole court thing being done and over with would make my life easier. But, it actually makes it harder.

Now I have to focus on everything else that's wrong with my life.

Now I have to focus on Cat being screwed up, on Beck being heartbroken, on Vega caring, on Andre knowing, on Trina being unobservant, on Robbie being... stupid. And Rex is a puppet. So I won't go there.

Tori noticed I was kind of a bit out of it since I had so much to think about, so she invited me over to watch a movie.

"Movies are just for losers who are trying to escape from reality," I responded quickly.

Tori rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you should learn how to do that," she replied.

So, I went to her house.

I immediately fell on the couch. I was naturally sprawled all over it, so she had to pick up my legs and put them in her lap just to fit. "Just... try to keep an open mind, okay Jade?" she whispered during the opening credits.

Ten minutes later, I yelled, "I can't do this!" at the people making out on screen. Trust her to pick out a romantic comedy.

"Jade...," she started.

"No!" I whimpered, crawling to the TV and turning the movie off. "I just can't handle that... that stupidity!"

She started laughing at me.

"Don't laugh!" I continued, laughing myself. "I _knew _you would pull something like this!"

I hadn't felt that happy in a _long_ time.

When she calmed down, she said, "Well, if you think your movie taste is so great, you should have brought one."

I smiled evilly. "I did." Then I pulled it out of my bag.

Her smile dropped. She got an embarrassed look on her face. "Jade, that's probably illegal for you to even touch."

I laughed again. "Well, that's exaggerating." She stared me down. "Jeez, Vega! I'm just kidding." I reached in my bag and pulled out another case.

Her jaw dropped. "_That_ looks terrifying," she said quickly.

"Yeah," I said. "That's kind of the point."

Her scared look didn't change.

I laughed. "Oh, come on, Vega. It's not that bad, really. It can barely be called horror."

She didn't stop looking like that. "Is there any demonic possession?"

I blinked. "Maybe, actually," I pondered. Then I saw the look on her face. "No. Absolutely not."

She sighed, defeated. My face lit up. I popped it in the DVD player and skipped back to the couch.

I'd seen 'Se7en' a hundred times, so instead of focusing on the movie, I focused on Tori's facial expressions. They varied between disgusted to horrified.

When it was over, I flicked the TV off, leaving us in complete darkness and silence.

"That was the most fucked up thing I've ever seen in my life," she stated.

I grunted in response.

It was dark outside, so it had to be late. Ten. Eleven. But I could make out every feature to her face.

"Jade...," she whispered. "Why'd you want me to see that?"

I chuckled. "Anyone who's gonna be with me _has_ to have seen that."

A tentative smile graced her lips. She picked up my hand, entwining our fingers without looking down. Then she pressed her lips to mine gently, placing her free hand on the armrest behind me.

Jade West isn't one to be dominated.

But I am.

She threw her leg over my lap, adjusting our position. Her lips found my neck, making me gasp. Her hands found my hips, pushing my shirt up a bit. She traced patterns on my stomach with one hand, resting the other on my belt buckle.

Then she pulled back, looking in my eyes. "Spend the night," she whispered. "I'll make you feel so good, you'll forget you ever felt bad."

I closed my eyes. Just her voice. That's all I need.

Then I opened them, about to respond.

And then her front door opened.

Why the _fuck _does this keep happening!

**A/N - I'm sorry.**

**Really, I am. For many reasons.**

**One, for making someone walk in on them _again_. Two, for being late. Like, _late._**

**But it's really not my fault. I had a physical, so I went to the doctor's this morning. Then I passed out there.**

**And I had this dream that someone asked me out and then we went to this dome thing full of rabid pitbulls, and these people had to get rid of them.**

**And then there was this lottery ticket machine written in Arabic, so we had to call a middle eastern man over to translate it.**

**And then a hurricane hit, and we were on lockdown inside the dome thing, and they had a thousand beds all in one room, and then the dome got ripped off the ground from the hurricane.**

**And then all this glass shattered and everyone died. **

**WORST DATE EVER.**

**But she's very attractive and we were the only survivors, so that does kind of make up for it.**

**Oh, and then I was suddenly in a swimming pool with a ton of other people.**

**None of which makes sense because I was only out for a few minutes.**

**Oh well. I'll shut up now. **

**Go review!**

**And also, to top off this author's note that may just be longer than the rest of the chapter, I want to thank Bekahbear, who has literally now reviewed every single chapter I have written.**

**And also Gothicchick. I'm pretty sure it's illegal in more than one way for me to marry you. But the signup button is in the top right corner!**

**Seaweed-crackerjacks (interesting name) just because you asked me if I watch autopsy videos. Because I literally burst out laughing. And everyone stared. **

**CookieMunstaa, kikudog6, Eeveeluvr18 - you guys have been with me from the start. Thanks for that.**

**Commonreactor, only because your review made me _want_ to let you love me. :D**

**IAmSoAwesomeSauce, for being humble with your penname and also for making me feel good about myself.**

**All you other wonderful reviewers, thank you too. I'd list you but I have to wrap this up. Like, now.**

**I know I just made it seem like it, but it's not over.**


	20. Rain

**Chapter Twenty**

The light turned on too quickly for us to move apart.

So, her entire family got a glimpse of her straddling me, us both disheveled and staring at them with wide eyes.

Wonderful.

As soon as she got over the shock, she ripped herself off of me and fell on the floor. "It's not what it looks... oh, God...," she trailed off, standing up.

I was sitting there, still dazed from all the kissing. And the whole being interrupted thing. That too.

Her parents were in the doorway, their jaws dropped, staring at us. Trina looked excited. "I'm telling Beck you're cheating on him with a girl!" she exclaimed in a sing-song voice.

I barely caught it in time to say, "We broke up."

She looked confused. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "Well, I'm still telling him!" she said, excited again.

"Trina!" Tori yelled after her retreating back. Then, when she was gone, she looked at the remaining threat, her parents. "I... um... I thought you guys wouldn't be back from Grandma's till tomorrow...," she murmured.

Her Dad got a hold of himself. "We were planning on that, but then your sister called, saying she needed a ride home from the mall and you weren't answering your phone... so we had to drive back early...," he explained awkwardly.

"Oh...," she said.

Breaking the awkward silence, I stood from the couch. "Maybe I should go...," I muttered.

She looked at me, thinking. "Yeah, you probably should," she said.

I threw on my jacket, picking up my bag. "Later, Vega," I started. Then I looked over at her parents. "Good luck," I said softly, kissing her on the cheek quickly.

I walked towards the door, biting my lip then smiling nervously at her parents, waiting for one of them to flip out on me. "Goodnight, Jade," her Dad said as he moved out of the way.

When I got outside I saw my truck, but I decided I'd rather walk home and kept the keys in my pocket. It wasn't exactly a brilliant idea, walking through Hollywood alone late at night, but I had scissors in my bag so whatever.

It started raining at one point. I didn't notice, I was lost in my thoughts I suppose. I love the rain. I used to sit in it when I was younger, writing and then watching the ink smear until my words were undecipherable.

What ever happened to that?

I found a bench, sitting on it, looking at the buildings. Who knows how many people are in them. I never will.

They all have their own lives; their own problems. A million problems. They all seem the same, no matter how bad they are. No one wants to hear about other people's worse lives unless they're trying to feel better about themselves.

I'd probably never meet one of them.

My phone suddenly started vibrating in my pocket, so pulled it out. Tori was calling.

I picked up, pulling my hood up to cover it from the rain. "Who _calls_ anymore, Vega?"

Her voice came out panicked. "Jade, are you walking in the rain right now?"

"Yeah," I said.

She sighed. "_Why_? Your car is right in the driveway!"

I chuckled. "I'm fine. Relax." Then I remembered. "How are things with your padres?"

There was silence. "That was the weirdest way you could have possibly asked that."

"Yeah, that was what I was going for," I stated.

She giggled. "They got over it quickly enough. Basically they just told me not to make out with you in the living room anymore."

I blushed at that. Which is weird. 'Cause I don't blush.

I cleared my throat. "Um... they didn't even make a big deal about it being with a girl?"

"No, I came out to them like a month ago."

"You're gay?" I asked. Which was a stupid question.

She didn't respond for awhile. "Um... yes? What did you think? That I was kissing you, but I was still somehow completely straight?"

I face-palmed. Obviously.

There was another pause. I forgot to respond. "Well, what about Trina?"

"I didn't tell her, 'cause I figured I'd wait until I was ready to tell everybody, since she'd do that for me. Oh, shit. She'll tell everybody about it!" she panicked.

I chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Vega. Everybody already thinks I'm a mental patient and you're my odd companion. No big deal."

She calmed down. "You really don't care?" she asked.

I shrugged, not realizing she couldn't see me. "Not really," I muttered.

"Wow," she said. "You're a lot more stable than I thought, then." I heard somebody talking in the background. "I gotta go. Get home safely, okay? I love you. Bye."

I stood. "Bye."

Then I shoved my phone back in my pocket and walked home.

**A/N - There you are.**

**Thank you BeautifullyBrokenBlood for being the second to review every chapter so far! Except for chapter 15 for reasons I cannot decipher.**

**Anyway, I made that a lot less dramatic than I could have made it. **

**I have come to the conclusion that I have the _weirdest_ dreams ever.**

**Last night I had a dream that was like I Am Legend in that everyone but me became a blood-sucking zombie thing.**

**But I trapped them all in this glass chamber and then went on to run all over the world and see everything I've ever wanted to see and have a great time.**

**And when I woke up I thought, if that was what the movie was like, it would've been _so _much more upbeat.**


	21. Cycle

**Chapter Twenty-one**

Sometimes, I feel like everything goes in a circle.

The water cycle. That whole 'matter is neither created nor destroyed' stuff. The thin line between love and hate is because they're pretty much the same thing.

It's hard to imagine a beginning of the earth. When we were born, the earth was there. When we will die, the earth will be there. Who's to say the earth even had a beginning? It could have just always existed.

You can go on and on about scientific theories, figuring out things for yourself. But it'll always only bring a thousand more questions that are ten times harder to answer.

What's the point of progress? We'll all just end up dying.

I had this idea in my head one time that time doesn't really exist. That when you die, you're reincarnated as someone on the earth, whether it's in the past or the future doesn't apply.

That's why it's important to learn history. So you can change it.

But you can't change a thing. You can, but you won't realize there's a difference later. Because you wouldn't know the first thing that happened.

So it's pointless.

And that theory evolved into there only being one soul on earth and that it is reincarnated as everyone you know, everyone you don't know, everyone you learn about in class. I'm living billions of lives at the same time, but I don't realize it because there's no such thing as time.

So every time you fall in love, you're really falling in love with yourself. All you ever hate is yourself. Anyone who disgusts you, anyone who you insult or call ugly. That's you.

I wish I was around when they were writing the Bible.

Doesn't that make you feel good about yourself? You were or will be Einstein.

You were or will be Jack the Ripper.

Great, eh? Just great.

The order organizes the stupidity. Your first life, you were the stupidest human being to have ever walked the earth.

Don't feel bad, so was I. Nice to meet you, me.

Then, as you go on, you get smarter. You think more. Don't criticize stupidity. You used to be the same idiot. Racism, bigotry, homophobia. It's just you in your early stages.

Don't think about it.

You got or will get smarter as you go on. Experience, you know. Gets to the point where you're at your golden age. All the geniuses in the past, all the geniuses in the future. Congrats. That was you and I.

But then you got older and wiser, and that line between genius and insanity, you walked over that. And you built a wall on it, made sure you'd never cross again.

That's the east wall of my fortress. Of your fortress.

Trapped.

You'll keep thinking more, keep getting worse. Start killing people. Killing yourself. From here on.

It'll only get worse.

So don't judge people, don't bully people. You'll only hurt yourself.

Unless you're more insane than they are. Then you've already suffered through that life.

I'd like to think that it goes in a circle, that as soon as you get as fucked up as possible, you'll go back to being as stupid as possible.

But you'll never stop getting worse, because there's no limit.

So you should enjoy this life you have right now. 'Cause it's better than your next one.

But it's hard. When your mind's being ripped apart, it's easy to think about how good it feels to not be having your mind ripped apart.

But when you aren't, especially if you never felt it, it's hard to be grateful for how your feeling since you can always find something to complain about.

I didn't ask for this, so I can whine. Is that right?

Just try, okay? For me. For yourself, just try to enjoy how fucking lucky you are.

I can't. But maybe you still can.

But you can't, because you're me. So we're both fucked.

After hearing that, isn't it hard to hate now? Hard to cut people off on the street, even? You used to think you were the only one with feelings, and you were right. Just didn't realize that you're everybody.

I try not to think like that anymore, because it hurts my head. And it doesn't matter. I can't do anything to change it anyway. This isn't some movie, where I find some magical shit and everything gets all better.

There's no happy ending, but it's always happier than your next ending. Doesn't that make it happy?

Just remember. Next time you spread rumors. Next time you hit someone. Next time you kill someone. Next time you rape someone. You're doing it all to me. To yourself. To everyone you've ever loved.

Does it make sense? Probably not to you. But it does to me. And all I care about is myself, because that's all there is.

**A/N - Sniffle.**

**If you think like that all the time, you would scream at everyone you pass about how they screwed you up. **

**So there. My daily philosophical rant for you. All original. But not really, 'cause you thought of it.**

**Aren't you looking foward to being me?**

**:D **

**I'm looking foward to being you just so I can review this story that you as me are going to write in the future to make myself feel good about me.**

**Whoa. That made no sense at all.**

**I think I was trying to tell you to review. Yeah, we'll go with that, that's always the safe route.**

**So, go on then.**


	22. Cuddling

**Chapter Twenty-two**

Tori likes to cuddle.

Which is good, because cuddling feels amazing to me. Of course, I'd never _admit_ to that. The only reason I'm letting you know is because, hell, you know everything else about me anyway.

Beck never used to want to cuddle. Naturally, he's a guy. That's not a necessarily 'manly' thing to do. Besides, he probably figured I wasn't the type to appreciate that.

I'm sure he would have, if I asked. But come on. You think I'm gonna ask?

Anyway, it wouldn't be the same. Vega's much... softer. And I'm just more comfortable around her. Safe.

Jesus, I sound like a sap.

Anyway, yeah. Half our time together is spent on her bed, cuddling. You'd think I'd rather be making out or something. But I actually wouldn't.

Not to say I don't like making out with her – that's great. There's just something about cuddling.

I've said 'cuddle' so many times today I almost wanna throw up.

I'm sure she knows I like it. I've never complained, for one. And God knows if I don't particularly like something, I won't hesitate to complain.

That and the way I respond. When she gets closer – hell, just when she pulls my shirt away from my back, drawing patterns.

That soft, content sigh I couldn't hold back if I tried.

Then her smile pressed into my neck as she gives it a quick kiss.

Yeah, she knows.

I tend to doze off a bit, when we're... cuddling.

Luckily, her parents have taken to knocking before they walk in after what happened a few days ago. So I have time to wake up and roll over.

It feels really good, though. Like, I can't get over it. I forget all of my problems, no matter how bad they are at the moment.

Like a drug.

And no. I'm not trying to get that Ke$ha song stuck in your head, thank you very much.

Not marijuana.

It's more like a prescribed drug. But one that actually works.

And it's impossible to overdose.

Yes, I did just get all uncontrollably smiley.

Tori let out a soft yawn as she stretched her arms and legs around me. "We're late," she said, not sounding like she really cared.

I twisted a little, pulling her close again. "For what?" I murmured, half-asleep.

"Andre told me to bring you to his house with me today. Something about it being important," she whispered.

I tensed a bit. "What are you doing going to Andre's house?" I asked sternly.

She giggled, pulling me down into a kiss. "Relax, Jade. We were paired for that whole scene project, you know that."

"Oh, right," I said in response.

"Hey," she said gently, caressing my cheek. "I love you."

I cleared my throat. "I... I love you too," I said quietly.

She squeaked, smiling widely. Then she leaned in, kissing me quick. "But really, we have to go," she said, getting up and going to grab her jacket.

I groaned. "Do we _have_ to?"

She laughed, so I threw a pillow at her. "Get up!" she yelped as she dodged it.

Andre's house is nothing too special. It looks pretty much the same as the ones next to it. But it _is_ nice anyway.

He answered the door so quick he was probably sitting inside of it, waiting for a knock. When he saw it was us he looked relieved.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said.

Tori shrugged. "We were... um," she blushed. "Busy."

He stared at her for a couple seconds before turning to go inside, shaking his head.

We made ourselves at home in his living room as he went to get cookies or something.

When he came back, I picked up a cookie, looking at it. What if it was poisoned? He would get me out of the way so he could have Vega all to himself.

I put it down, picking up another one from the side of the plate closer to her.

He didn't looked phased, starting to talk. "So, I called you guys here because Trina called me...," he started carefully.

Tori and I looked at each other quickly. "What'd she say?" we asked simultaneously. We have to stop doing that.

"Um...," he started awkwardly. "That she walked in on you two making out?" He fiddled with his hands. "And that... Jade's cheating on Beck?"

"We broke up," was all he got from me as a response.

He stared a bit. "So, you _were_ making out?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Problem?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. Just wanted to make sure you weren't cheating," he muttered. "You guys can go. Y'know, if you want. If you want to stay, you can, I guess. I'm not saying you _should_ go, but -"

"Andre," Tori interrupted. "We should probably get going anyway, we have to... do things," she trailed off vaguely.

I smirked at her. She just wanted to go... cuddle again.

God, I need to stop saying that word!

**A/N - Good morning!**

**I believe that was the most lighthearted chapter so far. All thanks to cuddling. :D**

**James888, thanks a lot for reviewing. I think that Tori and Jade getting married and adopting Cat might be just a smidge out of place in this particular story. But that's just me.**

**Who knows though, maybe I'll make a oneshot about that sometime in the future.**

**All you others, thank you for reviewing as well! You all have very nice and interesting things to say. **

**All you other others who didn't review should. For cuddling!**

**By the way, I had a dream last night that I was attacked by an alligator, but it was kind of my fault, and then he decided to leave me alone because he was a member of the peace corps.**

**Just thought I'd let you know.**


	23. Combination

**Chapter Twenty-three**

The combination on my locker was incredibly simple. Easy to remember. But, I have a lot on my mind, so I don't remember things that aren't priorities anymore.

So now my lock will meet a pair of pliers.

But as I tried to get a good grip and squeeze, Tori came up and pulled them out of my hands, dropping them back in my bag. Then she twisted the lock for a few seconds before the locker opened wide.

"I... how?" I stuttered.

She ignored me. "Twenty-five, ten, five," she whispered in my ear. "Quarter, dime, nickel. How do you forget that?" Then she turned and walked away with a smirk on her face.

I gaped after her for a few seconds before turning and getting what I needed.

Later on, I was walking down the halls with a scowl on my face. Robbie came up, making Rex talk.

"So... why are you and Tori dyking around? You tryin' to get Beck jealous so he'll take you back?"

Naturally, I got incredibly pissed off by the time the first sentence was out and when he stopped talking I pushed him up against the lockers, the puppet falling to the floor.

"That was the most ignorant thing I've ever heard in my goddamn life," I growled. "I have some advice for you, Shapiro. I want you to go home, find a small closet, lock yourself inside and then sit there in the dark for however long it takes for your brain to rot. Which shouldn't be that long, considering it's size."

Then I kneed him in the crotch, leaving him on the floor when I walked away.

Yeah, so maybe I was overreacting. Maybe if he told anyone I'd be suspended. But I'm done with the people staring, thinking it's okay. I'm done with everyone thinking they're so much better, happy to be perfect in comparison.

Apparently, rumors spread fast and Trina was good at starting them. Even though it was true. That doesn't apply.

Apparently, everyone in the damn world knows Tori and I were doing certain things on her living room couch.

I told Beck he should tell _everybody_ we broke up because _nobody_ seemed to know. And I do not cheat. Not even in rumors.

So, he got up on a table in the middle of lunch and yelled, "Jade and I broke up like a month ago, y'know!" to all the assholes whispering to each other and looking between us.

He seemed to have gotten over it well enough to be sitting at the same table as me again. Good for him.

But that just confirmed that something could be happening between Tori and I, so they just switched their gazes away from Beck and onto her.

I don't mind if they know, but I just don't get why they _care_ so much.

So I needed to set people straight, show them that I was Jade West, gay or not. And it was convenient, because Robbie was _really_ pissing me off. More than he usually does.

I told Tori later, in her room. What he said and what I did about it.

"Jade...," she sighed. "I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but beating him up probably was _not_ the best solution."

I chuckled. "I didn't beat him up. I just kicked him in the balls."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, pretty sure that qualifies," she said sarcastically.

Then she rolled on top of me, her knees caging me in.

I yelped. "Where'd that come from, Vega?" I asked, my voice deep.

She shrugged, leaning back and yawning. "Got bored. Hey, Jade?"

I rose an eyebrow. "Yes...?"

"Did you ever tell Beck you loved him?" she asked quietly.

I didn't hesitate. "Yes," I replied. "But I didn't mean it."

She looked down, fidgeting. "Why'd you say it then?" she whispered.

"Because I thought that that was love until I met you."

She looked up, staring me down. "Are you serious?" she asked. "Or are you just saying that to get in my pants?"

I grinned. "I'm serious. But I wouldn't mind getting in your pants, either."

She rolled her eyes again, grinning back. "You know, you come off tough, but you're basically as soft as is possible inside. Like a jelly doughnut," she said. Then she squinted. "Okay, bad analogy."

I smirked. "Damn right, bad analogy," I growled, tackling her under me. "Hm," I muttered. "I can see how you like it up here. Very empowering."

She giggled, playing along. "And I can see how you like it down here. Very... safe." She rolled us over again, getting on top. "But I prefer it this way," she whispered into my neck as she explored it.

"Agreed," I moaned softly.

Then there was a knock on the door. "Tori! Dinner!" came from the other side.

"Ooh!" she yipped, excited. "Tacos tonight!" She opened the door and ran out.

I stayed on her bed for awhile, feeling gypped off.

**A/N - Get it? Locker, gate? Combination, key?**

**...No? I'm a failure.**

**So, who likes tacos? Anyone? Hard or soft? Review to tell me and I might just send you your preference in the mail.**

**Might.**

**Taco preference, by the way. Not like, sexual preference. 'Cause that's... I don't know.**

**Whatever, it's not like you're getting anything in the mail anyway.**


	24. Circus

**Chapter Twenty-four**

I was allowed to have a taco. But it was more trouble than it was worth.

Trina was looking at me all through dinner like I'd appeared out of nowhere and she didn't necessarily want me around, and her parents were awkwardly trying to make me feel welcome despite that.

"So...," Mr. Vega started. "What are you doing during the summer, Jade?"

I shrugged. "Not much. I'll probably just be trying to get out of my house as often as possible."

He cleared his throat, brushing it off. "Well, you're welcome here anytime," he said.

I smiled at him and Tori laced her fingers through mine under the table.

The school year was almost at a close, and I was actually going to _not_ be held back after being absent for about a month. I managed to make up most if not all of my work.

At the end of every school year at Hollywood Arts, there's a sort of talent show called The Circus. It's basically The Big Showcase, except on the other side of the calendar. If you've already performed at the beginning of the year, you don't take part in it. The other half of the school that didn't get a chance to do anything the first time has a shot.

So Vega couldn't do it. Which sucks for me, because I kind of want to see her in that dress again. Oh well, maybe in private.

She's been pestering me, telling me to sign up. I, for one, think it's a bit much to add that to the list of all that's been happening. And besides, can you really see me participating in something called The _Circus?_ I don't think so.

But she started getting _so_ annoying. And then she boycotted kissing me, so I signed up.

When I told her that, she kept our lips together for about a half hour, making up for lost time.

Then she started pacing, talking about songs I should sing and what I should wear.

"Maybe 'I Kissed a Girl' by Katy Perry," she teased.

I sighed. "_Funny_. If I'm going to sing something, it's going to be something I like," I stated.

She rose an eyebrow. "Well, what do you like? I don't want you doing some song screaming about stabbing your eyes out."

I rolled my eyes, smirking. "I'm offended," I whispered, feigning hurt.

She walked over, laying down next to me, staring at the ceiling. I looked down on her from my position propped against the headboard. "You know," she murmured. "I don't think I've ever even heard your voice."

I chuckled. "It's not too special," I muttered, scooting over and running my fingers through her hair gently.

Her eyes closed, a sigh escaping her mouth. "Cat says it's amazing," she murmured in reply, looking content. "She says you're like an angel."

I didn't talk for a few seconds. I held her hand by her waist with my free one, continuing to run the other through her curls.

"Cat exaggerates a lot, you know that," I whispered.

"Well, yeah, I know," she replied. "But we were... we were with Andre and Beck, they both agreed." Her breathing was becoming heavier.

I let go of her hand, reaching for a blanket to drape over us. "Sometimes it's easier for people to just agree with Cat, no matter what she says," I continued whispering, connecting our hands again under the blanket.

Tori yawned a bit, snuggling closer to me. "Why are you so against people liking your voice?" She mumbled sleepily.

I allowed her to burrow into my neck, laughing a bit. "Tori, you're tired. Just stop talking and fall asleep," I said to change the subject.

She took my advice.

When I sing anything that actually matters I get bare. I'm out to be criticized by everybody, and normally that wouldn't bother me, but that's because what's being criticized isn't usually who I actually am.

Sure, I have a good voice. I guess. I'm a performer, so I'll use it. But usually I only use it to sing meaningless, hormone-driven songs about guys or something. 'Cause it's easier. Sure, I'm not too into it. It's not too emotional. I don't make anyone cry or anything. But at least I don't make myself cry.

I'd just rather be recognized for acting as opposed to singing, because at least when I act I have a character on. And I can't sing dumb songs throughout an entire career. People would demand something more personal. Actually, that's not a hundred percent true. But I wouldn't _want_ to sing stupid songs for my whole career.

So that's why I don't like it when people compliment me on that. Because I'm scared of launching off on that and not knowing how to get back.

Tori shifted a little in her sleep, rolling her head to the left and off my shoulder. I smiled, pulled from my thoughts.

I turned on my side a bit, resting my leg on top of her's and wrapping my arms around her. I kissed her cheek and nuzzled into her shoulder.

"Jade...," she mumbled a bit through sleep, shifting to make room for me.

I chuckled again.

If she really wanted me to, I _would_ sing 'I Kissed A Girl' for her.

**A/N - Aww. Teddy bear fluff.**

**Thank you for telling me your taco preferences. However, my mailman accidentally ran over my mailbox, and then he threatened me into pretending I was the one who did it and told all his buddies at the post office that I have no respect for mail or mailboxes, and now no one will let me mail anything without trying to arrest me.**

**So you won't be getting your tacos anytime soon. Unless you want me to email them to you. But I'm not sure how that would work.**


	25. Choices

**Chapter Twenty-five**

At four in the morning on a Saturday my phone started ringing.

I'm not a light sleeper. But it was loud.

I woke up, answering the call. "Who's it?" I slurred.

"Morning, Jade," Tori exclaimed enthusiastically. "Have I ever told you how incredibly hot you sound when you're tired?"

It took me a couple seconds to register this, and when I did I responded by saying, "Have I ever told you how incredibly annoying you are when you wake me up?"

She laughed. "I need to talk to you," she stated.

"I'm not in the condition to talk, sorry."

She sighed. "Then listen," she murmured. "I've been thinking about the song you're gonna do -"

"I'm not doing 'I Kissed A Girl,' for the last time," I said immediately.

She rolled her eyes. And I can tell, through the phone. Which is kind of sad. "I wasn't going to say that. I just wanted you to come over so I can help you decide."

I groaned. "That's why you woke me up at four in the morning?"

"Well, yeah. That and I wanted to hear your voice," she joked cutely. When she heard me scoff, she said, "C'mon, Jade. You can sleep over here."

I cleared my throat, giving in. "Okay. I'll be there eventually."

"Yay!" she yelped. "M'kay, bye. I love you."

"I love you, too, you maniac," I mumbled, hanging up.

The drive was quiet. The second she opened the door I walked directly passed her and to her room.

When I got there I dropped face-first into her bed. She closed the door, making her presence known. "I love your scent," I admitted to her pillow.

There was a pause. "That's not weird at all," she giggled. She walked over to her computer, sitting down and booting it up. Then she swiveled around in her chair to face me. "So, any ideas?" she asked.

"Not really," I muttered, rolling over. "I don't want to do something popular that everyone's heard a thousand times, but at the same time I want something catchy. But sad."

She hummed in approval, typing in her password. "Shouldn't be too hard to find one of those." She pulled up Google and turned to face me. "Get up," she demanded, standing.

I groaned, rising and walking over.

"Sit," she said. I sat in the spinny chair and she plopped down in my lap unexpectedly, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I stared for a few seconds. "Comfortable?" I asked sarcastically.

"Absolutely," she responded seriously. "So... unpopular catchy sad songs."

"Uh huh," I replied stupidly.

She sighed. "Did you bring your iPod?" she asked.

"Yeah. But it's in my bag," I said. She got up and went over to get it, then came back with it, making herself comfortable on my lap again.

She pulled the headphones off and placed them on her desk. "Okay. So we'll put it on shuffle and see if we find something acceptable."

She hit play. First song that came on was 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' by Ice Nine Kills. She stared at the screen for the first forty-five seconds and then paused it immediately, turning her staring on me.

"What?" I asked. "You get used to it."

"_No_," she said sternly.

I sighed dramatically. "_Fine. _Go to the next song then."

She hit the next button. Say Anything's 'Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too' came on. I tried to snatch it away to change it. She wouldn't let me.

She raised her eyebrows when the chorus came on. "I'm not even gonna comment," she said, changing the song again. 'Three Cheers For Five Years' by Mayday Parade came on. "This sounds good. How bout this one?"

"I dunno," I said. "I might like something a little more flexible in meaning...,"

I didn't even have to explain what I meant, she already knew. She went for the next song.

'Wild Horses' by The Rolling Stones. She leaned back into me as it played. "What do you think?" she whispered.

I looked at her. "I think we found our song," I whispered back. She smiled.

She leaned in and kissed me. "Good," she murmured.

"Great," I stated with finality. I stood, picking her up in my arms. She squeaked and grabbed my shoulders. I sat her back down on the chair without me under her. "And now," I said, leaning down to be close to her face. "I'm taking a nap."

Then I plopped on the bed and fell asleep quickly.

**A/N - Alright! There you are.**

**I appreciate your death threats to the mailman, but just try to be more tactical about this.**

**Feel free to look up any of those songs up there. Also, look up Justin Robinett on youtube. 'Cause he's awesome. And Mike Masse, too. He's also awesome, you can't deny it.**

**And then look up Liz Gillies's cover of 'Wild Horses.' Because it's double awesome. And I chose to incorporate that in Jade's performance because it's actually _her_ voice.**

**So, yep. I'm exhausted, I almost died twice today. **

**But I had to revive myself, because I thought 'Who else would update the story?' So feel free to thank me.**


	26. Meaning

**Chapter Twenty-six**

It was necessary to practice, unfortunately. Tori blackmailed Andre into getting a band together to record the instrumental part so we could rehearse. With what I don't know.

He caved in, though, and he agreed to playing for the performance, as well.

I was in Vega's room, waiting for her to give me orders to sing while drinking some coffee. She was over at her computer, trying to find out how to download the file Andre had emailed her.

"Vega?" I called. "Do you need help?"

"Nope," she grunted while looking at the wires behind the monitor.

I walked over, standing beside her bent-over form and clearing my throat. "Something tells me that's not the problem," I said. I ducked under her arm, trying to figure it out myself.

I had it set up in ten seconds.

She sat down, huffing. "Nerd."

I laughed, pushing her shoulder playfully. "Just play the damn song, Vega," I said.

She sighed. "Okay. Sing when you're ready."

The music started, so I went and sat on the bed to make it less awkward.

_Childhood living is easy to do  
>The things you wanted I bought them for you<br>Graceless lady you know who I am  
>You know I can't let you slide through my hands<em>

I started, thinking about how I felt for Tori. How I'd do anything for her, how I'd die if she left.

_I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain  
>Now you've decided to show me the same<br>No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
>Can make me feel bitter or treat you unkind<em>

Then I thought of Beck. Of how he felt that way about me, about how he just wants my happiness. About how I showed him my problems and then just ended up brushing him off, breaking up with him. About how ridiculously calmly he took that.

_I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie  
>I have my freedom but I don't have much time<br>Faith has been broken, tears must be cried  
>Let's do some living after we die<em>

How easy it would be for her to break my heart. How easy it was for me to break his. How convincingly I acted throughout our whole relationship.

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
>Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday<em>

How none of that really matters.

I guess I was crying by the time I was finished, without even noticing. After ripping the words out of my chest. How was I supposed to keep my cool in front of the crowd?

Tori was still sitting in her chair, gaping at me. For my voice or my tears, I don't know.

She recovered soon, whispering, "That was amazing." I shrugged, angrily wiping at my eyes. "Really, Jade. There was so much emotion packed in there. It was beautiful."

She walked over, sitting next to me. She caressed my face, wiping my incredibly annoying tears away with her thumb. She pulled me into a hug, rubbing circles in my back.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered in my shoulder, pressing a kiss to it afterward. "It's okay."

I let out one choked sob into her neck, hating myself for it. I'm so weak. She's seen me cry like a thousand times now. I'm supposed to be the strong one.

When I calmed into sniffles, she laid back, pulling me down gently to snuggle into her chest. "It isn't fair," I murmured, worn out.

She let out a short laugh. "What isn't fair?" she asked.

"How much you mean to me," I said quietly, feeling vulnerable.

She smiled down at me, intertwining our fingers. "I know," she said softly. "I love you too."

I stared at her, hesitating before letting a grin take over my features. I leaned up, pressing our lips together. When we separated, our foreheads were touching as we looked into each others eyes. I sighed. "Shut up," I whispered.

We stayed like that for hours afterwards.

**A/N - Sorry. I'm late.**

**It's just that yesterday was my Grandma's 90th birthday party. And then before I went there, I had hours of tryouts for various things. And before I went there, I had hours of sleeping to do. **

**That's not a great excuse, is it?**

**Oh well. It's here now. Feel free to tell me how happy you are. Or what you liked about this. Or what you didn't like about this. Or both. Or neither, you could just say hi.**

**By the way, Gothicchick, you are not a nuisance. You are the opposite of a nuisance. So go figure out what that is and then tell me.**

**Okay. Now I must leave. Goodbye.**


	27. Scripted

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

"I don't know if I can do this," I told her.

She looked up, acting like I was crazy. Which I probably am. But that's beside the point. "Jade, we've been working on this for weeks now. You can't back out _now_."

I shrugged busying myself with piano keys regardless of the fact that I don't know how to play. "I could pretend to be sick...," I muttered pathetically.

"Uh, no, you _can't_," she said sternly. "I won't let you."

I sighed, dropping my fingers down on random keys in frustration. "I don't wanna start bawling my eyes out in front of an audience, okay?" I snapped, exasperated.

She shrugged. "So just don't think too much about the lyrics," she said, as if it were that simple.

"I _can't_," I murmured.

She sighed dramatically, getting up and going through her bag which was under the piano bench.

"What are you doing?" I asked, caught off guard.

She ignored me, popping back up and shoving sunglasses on my face. "There. Now no one will be able to tell you're bawling your eyes out. Happy?" she asked sarcastically. Not waiting for a response, she pulled them off and dropped them in her bag.

"Now," she purred seductively, flinging her arms around my neck as she sat down once again. "How 'bout you come up to my room and I can help make you less uptight?"

I stared at her, mouth wide open for awhile. I closed it. "I'd like that," I said, my voice coming out a bit high. I cleared my throat.

She laughed at me, getting up and skipping up the stairs.

My childhood was littered with pointless, unproductive movies that all had the same plot which never exactly made sense. The first time I really started leaning toward performance was when I wanted to write scripts.

Making up stories, but ones that actually brought human beings into perspective. Just like being an actor. Only completely different. The same goal, anyway. Living in a life that doesn't even exist.

Why I decided to lean more toward acting was because I hate being in control. If I know what I'm doing, it's okay, but I don't like testing the waters. When you're an actress, you read off a script. When you _write_ a script, you have to come up with your own words.

And sure, writing gives me more of a high than performing does, because it makes me feel that a thousand people who're watching the movie are hearing my words. But they don't know. They think it's the actor's words.

That makes it that much better.

In a movie, the main character, you know everything about them. More than you know about yourself. They do that purposely.

In a movie I'd make, it'd be different. You'd _think_ you knew her. And then, she'd do something so out-of-character, so unexpected. And then, you'd realize you never knew a thing about her.

Maybe she'll kill herself. With a pocketknife.

See, this is why I can't make a movie. Because it's hard for me to keep my personal life out of the plot.

Know what I've always wanted to do? Make a movie where a bunch of kids come in for detention. And they don't know each other. And then, it shows how each one of their fucked up lives have played out.

And they'll have so many problems, all of them. Not one of which any of the others know. And maybe they'll talk, maybe they'll become friends. But nobody's ever going to share any of it with anybody else.

You think you know someone.

Who's the main character? The first one you see?

You can decide, I don't give a shit.

I used to do things just to take people off guard. Just to get a second glance. Just to be special.

I'm not special. I accept that about myself now.

But that doesn't mean I can't make somebody else look better in comparison. That's what I'm here for. Feel free to thank me.

You know what's almost pathetic, though? All that stuff up there, all the thoughts, all the issues, everything.

That was all gone the moment Tori Vega touched me.

**A/N - Hi.**

**I know I'm late again. But I had practice... excuses, excuses.**

**School starts in two days. Anyone else? No? I'm going to school alone?**

**Don't use that piece of information to stalk me. My daddy's a cop.**

**:D It's got a party hat!**

**Ahem. Sorry 'bout that. **

**I'm having issues finding creative ways to bribe you into reviewing.**

**If you have any suggestions, feel free to send them to me in a review.**


	28. Performance

**Chapter Twenty-eight**

The audience was talking amongst themselves, waiting for the show to start. I wasn't wearing anything fancy or attention-grabbing – just my normal clothes. The last thing I wanted was their attention when I start tearing down my own walls.

I wasn't going on until near the end of the show, so I had time to have a nervous breakdown.

But it didn't seem like as big a deal as before, now that I know Tori Vega is completely mine no matter what.

Nothing did, really.

She suddenly appeared next to me in my closet of a dressing room, smiling. "How are you?" she asked cautiously.

I cleared my throat. "I don't know," I responded quietly. Honestly.

She sighed happily, pulling me into a kiss. When we pulled away, she said, "You'll be fine, Jade," in the same tone.

We heard music come from the stage around the corner.

She laughed, seeing the frozen look on my face. "Jade, for the last time, _relax_," she murmured, pressing our lips together again, her hands finding my waist under my shirt.

I felt myself about to let out a moan and I pulled it back, letting out a small whimper instead.

And then someone cleared his throat in the doorway.

We jumped apart, Tori almost tripping over a chair as my back hit the wall. We looked over to see Andre standing just in the room, looking at everything but us.

"Jesus, this is the third time," I whispered to myself.

Tori glanced at me, mumbling, "We should really invest in a portable lock."

Andre finally met my gaze, looking incredibly awkward. "I... um, I came to tell you that the music is all set...," he explained awkwardly.

We all just stood there, thinking about what to say but saying nothing.

Finally, Andre spoke again. "You're... on after five more acts," he said, turning to walk out again.

Tori face-palmed, shaking her head. "That was terrible."

I shrugged. "Just be happy it wasn't a news team."

"Okay, since when are _you_ optimistic about things?" she asked sarcastically.

I smiled. "Since I met you." Sappy, Jade. Sappier than a maple tree.

She grinned.

Being on a stage alone isn't as terrifying as you'd think. I have a stool to occupy my thoughts up here. And the light makes sure I see no one.

So, I don't think about my father in the audience.

Yeah, that's right. Daddy. I saw him as I sent a quick glance around from the back of the room.

Now I'm angry, and a little sad, but mostly angry. Which isn't good, because the song isn't coming from an angry person. It's coming from a sad person. So I'm trying to focus in on that, but the anger is drowning it out.

The music started off slowly and I calmed my anger as best I could to let the words I'm singing come off as they're meant.

_Childhood living is easy to do  
>The things you wanted I bought them for you<br>Graceless lady, you know who I am  
>You know I can't let you slide through my hands<em>

That came out with that bit of sadness. But then I ran out of it. My childhood wasn't easy. My childhood was the opposite of easy.

The chorus came then, my words grating against my throat as I pulled that last bit of sadness out of my system.

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
>Now you've decided to show me the same<br>But no sweet, vain exits or offstage lines  
>Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind <em>

That part increased in anger with every word. That part, that hit close to home. I always wanted to just be accepted by him. That's all. But he just took out all his problems on me. What gives someone the right to do that? I know, like my attempted murderer said, no one's born evil, but you have to be pretty close at birth to solve things that way.

I'd never do that.

But, as established, I'm everyone. I'm him at one point. So I would.

I just don't know if he's ahead or behind me in line.

It's funny how these lyrics mean are different from before. But they're the same.

When the song ended, I walked off the stage before anyone could even think to clap. I heard applause behind me, but it didn't matter. My father probably wasn't clapping.

Tori caught up to my fast pace, spinning me around in the parking lot. She took her sunglasses off my face to reveal streaks of tears and puffy eyes.

She sighed, grabbing a hold of my hand and bringing me to my car, letting go so we could get into it.

"You can sleep in my bed tonight," she whispered, taking hold of my hand behind the gearshift. "Nothing sexual. Just sleep. I know you can't face him, honey."

I burst into tears, not even caring how she knew. She pulled me into her arms, whispering soft words in my ear.

**A/N - Sighhhh.**

**I went to school todayyyy. It was as terrible as I remembered it.**

**Know what's _incredibly_ weird, though? I saw this poster on my teacher's wall about 'The Breakfast Club.'**

**And then when I got home, I read TheFonzGhandi19's review, which literally said "Watch the Breakfast Club."**

**So I watched it.**

**It was awesome.**

**Now go look it up.**

**Anyway, not much longe****r to go, my friends. By the way, you're pretty much my only friends.**

**Review if you feel sorry for me! Or if you don't.**


	29. Recovery

**Chapter Twenty-nine**

I was in the fetal position on Vega's bed, miserably waiting for her to return. She'd gone off some place, to get food or change or something. I didn't pay too much attention to what she said, just saying, "Come back soon," as my voice cracked.

I'd been thinking a mile a minute. Why had my father even bothered to come? Was he trying to accomplish something?

Suddenly a furry puff ball jumped in front of my face and started to rub against me.

"What the fuck!" I yelped, rolling over and ending up on the floor.

Tori barged in, looking panicked. Then she laughed at me when she saw me scrambling up, furious.

"_When_ did you get a cat?" I asked angrily.

She laughed more. "My dad's friend was gonna send him to a shelter so we offered to take him," she explained after she recovered from her laughing fit.

I calmed down a little. Can't stay angry with that smile around... I swear I'm getting softer everyday. "And why did you wait to tell me this until _after_ I had a heart attack?" I asked, reaching my hand out by the cat carefully. He licked my hand.

She smiled. "Didn't come up," she said happily, walking over and picking him up. She walked up close to me. "Wanna hold him?" she asked.

"Not really," I said unconvincingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes you do," she replied, placing him in my arms gently. I felt him purring. "Aw, he likes you!" she exclaimed childishly.

I chuckled a bit, patting him. "Alright, enough of this," I suddenly said, placing him on the floor. "I'm supposed to be depressed right now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you _want_ to be?" she asked seriously.

"No!" I defended. "I just have every reason to be!"

"Untrue!" she exclaimed childishly once again.

I gaped at her. "Um, _really_ true_. _My performance was a disaster, to me anyway, my father's a complete asshole, and I had to wrap it all up breaking down in the school parking lot!"

"So?" she said. When she saw me looking appalled, she continued. "You had a shitty day. But right now, we're in my bedroom alone and you're wasting time complaining."

I watched her drop on the bed, developing a smirk quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry," I started. "I thought you were serious when you said 'Nothing sexual,' earlier."

A blush shot onto her face withing seconds. "That is _not_ what I was talking about, Jade," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Aw," I whined, disappointed. "Well, what were you talking about?"

"Just enjoying each others presence!" she explained.

I raised my eyebrows and my smirk came back. "What's the difference?" I asked seductively, putting my hand on her thigh as I sat next to her.

She gulped. "Jade, no. Not tonight."

"Why not?" I murmured, suddenly swinging my leg over to straddle her.

Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feel of me on top of her. "B-Because, your emotions... they're all over the p-place...," she stuttered hopelessly.

I leaned into her, resting my chin on her shoulder. "So help me keep them in check," I whispered in her ear. Then I pulled back, staring into her eyes.

She fell backwards on the mattress, pulling me with her.

A little bit into our... activities... Vega got up and ushered the cat out of the room in her underwear. Apparently, she felt bad about doing... that in front of an animal, but not bad enough to completely stop.

Later on, after we were spent, we were just laying there holding each other with lazy, content smiles grazing our faces.

"I can't believe you got me to do that so easily," she muttered, a hint of sarcastic anger in her voice. But she was too worn out to get a lot in there.

"I know," I murmured, playing with her hair. "I wonder what else I could get you to do...," I trailed off mischievously.

She flicked me. "Jade...," she said warningly.

When she snuggled into me, it had very different implications which I decided not to mention.

**A/N - Woohoo!**

**My computer was being stupid when I tried to update and I had to wait like half an hour.**

**Okay, so some people have reviewed looking for smut. And it's rated T. So that can't happen.**

**HOWEVER, I may do a oneshot rated M that's a more... descriptive version of this chapter for those who wish to read it. Maybe. If you beg enough.**

**I won't post it inside the story as a chapter, though. So for those of you who don't want to read it, you won't have to skip a chapter or something stupid like that. Just stay here.**

**For those of you who do want to read that, review telling me to. If I get maybe... seven reviews telling me to I will. SO... go be one of my seven. **

**In the meantime, this chapter should hold you over.**


	30. Ending

**Chapter Thirty**

I've never been good at ending things, so I try not to start them. I keep everything constant all the time and avoid variables. But my life isn't a science experiment – to me, anyway. I can't always control everything. In fact, I barely ever control anything at all.

The whole supposed suicide ordeal is proof of that. And the evil father. And the sudden girlfriend with her magic fingers.

I think I'm off track.

As I was saying, I don't like to end things. I like to keep them the way they are and never change.

But sometimes things have to change. My relationship with Beck, which I dragged on long enough, for instance. If I hadn't ended that, I wouldn't have Vega right now. Or my residence in a mental clinic. If I hadn't changed that, I wouldn't have Vega in my bed right now.

Ah, sexual innuendo. What would I be without you?

I had to teach myself sex ed. You think my father was gonna do it? Hilarious. This is how I turned out.

Speaking of father, he left a twenty on my bed with a note saying 'Good show.' As if I was a stripper or something. But hey, at least he's making an effort.

I don't know _why_. I assume he feels bad for hating me or something to that extent. Or he just wanted some quality entertainment.

I don't care either way.

Back to Tori – we hold hands in the hallways. Cat said, "Aw!" in a voice that almost wasn't fake; Andre smiled politely, as he is known to do. Robbie sprinted away, cowering. Beck barely even seemed to notice. And Trina seemed to have gotten over us at some point, just coming over to complain to Tori about failing at something else.

We haven't gotten anything too bad, considering everyone loves her and is terrified of me.

_Life's too short to even care at all, whoa..._

_Losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control_

I picked up my phone, stopping the ring tone. "Hey, Vega," I said.

There was a sigh. "Do you really have to call me that?"

I laughed lightheartedly. "You trying to tell me you don't like it?"

"...That's not what I said."

"Didn't think so," I murmured, tossing a mini basketball around in my hands.

She let me revel in my smug moment before she spoke again. "I was just thinking and I realized we haven't had an official date yet."

I caught the ball, rolling my eyes. "Oh yeah?" I asked sarcastically. "And what exactly are the qualifications of an _official date_?"

"Y'know...," she muttered, embarrassed. "Like... going somewhere."

I chuckled. "We've gone places," I said softly, trying to make her feel more comfortable.

"I know," she whined. "But, you didn't, like, ask me to go on a _date_ with you... we just went," I could literally detect her pout.

"Well... would you like to go on a date with me then?" I asked, a little confused.

There was a moment of hesitation. Then a tentative, "Yes."

I smiled. "I'll pick you up at eight. We can go mini-golfing, or to the movies, or some other cliché."

"Woohoo!" she yelped.

I laughed again. " I love you, Vega," I whispered.

"I love you, too, Jade."

Later, when we were getting some beloved tacos at a questionable booth on the street, she kissed me when the vendor turned his back. Maybe it wasn't some romantic spot away from everyone, with fireworks in the background and calming music. But it was perfect.

And I realize now, that nobody else is going to ever see something like that between us and think of it like that. Perfect. But I don't want them to – I'm too selfish. I want it to stay between us, that feeling. She's the only one I want to share it with.

It isn't about me anymore. If it was, it wouldn't matter if she feels that way. But I can always see it deep in her eyes, and that makes everything a hundred times better.

Nothing else matters. At all. My dad, he can do what he wants, he can try to make up for my lost childhood in a couple small gestures. It doesn't matter, as long as I have her.

If that lady escapes jail, whatever. With Tori by my side I'm fine. Always.

And maybe that's why I don't like endings – because I like how things are. I want her here. If she left, I wouldn't know what to do.

But maybe we won't be another failed teenage relationship. Maybe she'll always be around.

Maybe, just maybe, it won't have to end.

**A/N - Yup, that's it.**

**I hope you enjoyed the story. Before you start sobbing, there _will_ be more! Well, not of this. That M one-shot, if you're interested, will be out pretty soon, but then that's the end of this.**

**But moving on, I assure you I will write more Jori. And maybe Cade, although that's not my primary ship. It's still a good pairing.**

**In fact, I have some stuff in the works right now. Misread Lines and The Intimacy Factor. So, look out for that stuff. If you care for it.**

**It's not too late for you to review! Seriously. Do it.**

**For those of you who have been here _forever_, thank you for being awesome. I'd list your names, but I've already kind of done that. Sort of. You know who you are.**

**The song for Jade's ringtone was _Cough Syrup_ by Young the Giant, in case anyone was wondering. Crazy awesome song, look it up.**

**So, yeah. That's it. First story. Thanks. Are we done here?**

**Till later, homies.**


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